Post by Swindle Shelldrake on Oct 27, 2021 19:50:29 GMT -5
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----| Proving Ground XXV |----
∞
T h e K r a k e n
S w i n d l e
----| S h e l l d r a k e |----
P r o f a n e O f f i c e W o r k
"Mr. Raith will see you now".
Let's get this over with.
Thudurrr....Thudurrr....Thudurrr....Thudurrr....
"There's that creaking of the lift again. Someone really should put this thing out of its misery already, sounds like a deathrattle every time the tiny wheels reach another floor. Always makes the same screech at the 13th floor. Pretty on the nose, but fits this place like a glove. I hate it here. Just standing in this dank, dark cell feels like it's sapping the minutes from your life with every widow's wail of the car. Adding it onto his, I'm sure. Can't say I'm too surprised to be back here again, not after the last time. Or the last half-dozen, not that I'm keeping count or anything. One minute I'm counting the clacks and chatters of this damned box, and the next I'm in his cushy 'executive' office, with all the stuffy old libraries a human could get into this room, the corner window to see the skylines of Los Angeles, and the pristine mahogany desk. It's so clean that you'd be within your right to think nobody worked on it whatsoever. Nothing about this room looks like it's the day-to-day work dwelling of an actual human. Too clinical. Too many things in their place. Speaking of not human, this is Roland Raith here after all. He's shouting at me but all I can concentrate on is his lack of a second monitor on the desk. He's really slumming it up with one screen while in an office like this. Oh yeah, you're in my head now too. You get to see just what's really distracting to me, pick up on everything, hopefully you don't get too cosy in this noggin of mine".
"I look up to see him pacing around. Again. He likes to do that when he's angry. The smart suit and the usual detachment and the silence over his moving lips can't hide the frustration and disappointment in his aura. And yes, I did say looking up at him. This five foot four, pint-sized pocketrocket sits me down on this tiny leather-backed visitor's chair like it's the naughty chair in kindergarden, and gives me the shpiel for the thousandth time. Talking down to me. To me. I'm the tallest string bean in town and he's talking down to me. Not even sitting me in front of his desk, that's a little low, even for him. Roland Raith can be a real cunt when he wants to be. I don't need to hear what he's saying to know, and he's in full cunt mode today. And before you ask; no, I won't repeat the vulgar stuff he's currently berating me with, gotta spare a thought for any kids that might be watching".
"He's a cunt, not Shakespeare".
"Arata".
"Although, as healthy as it is to drown out anything that Roland says with whatever else can latch onto my interest, there's a name to remember. He just had to say it, cut through even my defence.....I wonder what Arata is doing now. Might be too busy brooding his way to the arena, trying for the whole dark and mysterious thing. Would say that I'd at least respect the effort to sound more world-weary and travelled than he really is....but who and I kidding, I absolutely don't respect any of that. Not really. It's all about the perception. He's a useful tool to have, hardly the worse fate, even if it's a little objectifying...and for such a proud warrior, hahaha. Always play to their side when needed, and make them know it. Let's face it, I'm not exactly hiding that I don't like the guy. It's all to serve a purpose. If we were at each other's throats a few weeks ago, then nobody would have won at Night of Honor. Simple as that. Same thing when we faced Vikings season four and the hip-drip-skips. Huh, would be a pretty shit band name that. But I digress, It's not a secret that my teams with these people have purely been to serve a greater meaning. To advance upwards. If they come with, then fine. It's just further to push them down when the time comes. And the time will come. It always does. Arata might be the stronger of the rest that are wanting to take the title.....I wouldn't be dumb enough to deny that.....fuck sake, Night of Honor sucked. The shogun swept in and took some glory at my expense, tapping out to that Fallout fuck. Pretending to be bigger than the team like he's holier than thou. At the very least I make an overt promise of my duplicity, Arata. i don't want it to be anyone's fault but your own when it just so happens to be me standing at the top, and you with a knife in all your backs. Don't beat around the bush, just embrace that you're a fuckhead like me and get on with it. Should go buy himself a personality, and maybe he can get over this chip on his shoulder for once. I'd actually like to not have him hovering around for once. There's more to Proving Ground than Arata Asakura. There has to be, Jesus Christ. Practically I'm doing a public service of letting all of you into my head and it's not Arata doing it, wouldn't want to wish that audiobook onto anyone, not even my most bitter enemies. Would be more boring than Roland's....whatever he's rambling on about now".
"I do wonder what Arata would even be able to accomplish if it were him in a singles contest for the top title. If he finally got what he's been whining about all along, chips are down, and it's time to actually deliver. The doubt there makes it interesting, even if in hindsight we'd all say he had no chance anyway. Then again, perception is reality, and fucking hell Arata Asakura somehow has more buzz than he has any right to be holding. I'm better than him....I know I am.....Singles means nothing when that isn't the road we're on. Mark Hunter got the nice little handicap that a former Grand Champion deserves in this fight, and the other two are barely worth a mention. I am better than both of them. Better than all of them....I....I know I am.....Knowing isn't reality, Swindle. You dumbass. Don't forget it. Jay might have fallen last time, but it's still a loss that falls on your shoulders. You're in the one in this fucking Grand Championship match. It's your loss too".
"It's your loss too".
"....And the week before that.....I was even more of a joke. The tiny pissbaby kraken can't even shoo away some nobodies with a win. JÖRMUNGANDR in the fucking mud. Get a fucking grip, Swindle. You're in this match for a reason, even if you fucking suck right now. It's not about how you start, it's how you finish. I know I can't beat every single man in this title match by myself, nobody can. Yes they can. The one can do it. As long as he stands, I'm totally and utterly fucked. Proper fucked. Fucked from here till Sunday when the cows come home. We're all fucked, and he'll be standing there too. Ozymandias. I'm practically an Ozymandias fanboy, you know? That's what they say anyway. The whole octopus, kraken, Cthulhu vibe whatever. There can only be one apparently, so that's what I am now. I'm the second, shitty one. That's the perception. And it's reality. I saw a sign in the crowd with something like that on it too. Can't remember where, don't really want to remember. Arata tries to hard to instil fear and some form of intimidation....but Ozymandias scares me. For the first time in my life I don't know what his endgame is. Is there even one to begin with? Just like that bullshit match with Jason Long, the real outcome of this match can be taken out of my hands. First it was Elena, who can also fuck off. And now, it's the other champion. Can't tell if Ozymandias would wish me to lose and sink into the ground, or for Arata to be vanquished before the title match. or he could just pummel both of us into the ground and barely bat an eye. I'm scared of that. Of him".
"Roland tries too hard as well. There's no way he can really make me flinch while sitting here, it's all a routine exercise in ignoring the critic anyway. They try too hard....Ozymandias doesn't need to. It's innate. Even if they don't see it the same way, all fearless and the like. I can front that barrier to the soul better than anyone else.....but it won't do anything. It can't stop the shake in my hand. Might just be beginner's nerves if I cared less. Welcome to a new age, Swindle, you're on the big stage now. On the big stage and even the scum of the earth are enough to bleed a draw out of you. Blood from a stone. The only stone in Project: Honor that can bleed. They're out here nearly making miracles happen while I'm here. Fucking hell, Roland hasn't shut up yet".
"Stay close to the river and cry".
"And the river's gonna feel you're the god of rain".
"He's gonna worship you like god and creator for ages".
"And all the faeries of the forest will come".
"They wanna so you to the dance of night".
"......"
"I can't remember the next line....Huh. Miracles....is it best to just have the god-given gift to make them so....or to try harder than anyone else and fail anyway. They're all pushing against false walls, pretending they're really fighting something. They'll all be comfortable in their positions. Arata can be a comfortable name, already is. Ozymandias, he has that gift. The gift of miracles. Holding our fates in his hands. Be it Roland or whoever wants to boot me off the bus in the next town....no amount of 'NEXT UP' awards can really make up for standing under the sword of fucking Damocles. Hype is just that, and I'm losing what I have, and what I could already have. A loss to Arata means he is in actuality the real contender amongst us. At least, higher than me. That would be digging my own grave for Roland to piss on, and holy hell I can't give this cunt the satisfaction of me failing. I'm both the golden boy of his potential clients and in the doghouse at the same time. Nothing is good enough. Never is. Beating Arata won't be good enough either....for him....or me".
"But, being able to well and truly shut him down as anything but a mopey sideliner in this chaos would help in the long run. Losing would help too, become less of a looming threat to the rest before the match, really fly in under the radar.....Swindle....once again, you're a fucking dumbass. I have to win this. Ozymandias won't care. He's a force of nature. I won't be safe no matter the result. I'm fucked no matter what.....Rub salt in Arata's eyes before that, get a point on the board. Have them all struggle and fight and die while you stay the only one willing to really overcome fear, overcome adversity.....overcome miracles to become Grand Champion. A shogun is just the beginning. Killing a killer. Sounds like a good way to assert myself. To them, and to me. I am the Kraken....whatever that means, Little Ozyboy. Win the match here. Die at his hands when it really matters. But this matter-only the gold matters. I deceive and lie and betray my way to the top not out of charity or just some fun thrill ride. I need to.....I'm not good enough to beat any of them otherwise".
"Accept that already. Fuck sake. Get a grip".
"Do I make myself clear?"
"Oh shit, that's my cue. Smile in place, every glint in the eyes where they should be. Internal crisis quelled to nothing, just as usual. Keep him none the wiser. The look of understanding, and absorption of his words, absolutely. I have failed and messed up, and will do anything and everything in my power to get into Roland Raith's good books once again you smug piece of shit. I'll use this all to break away from whatever you want from me. Eventually I'll be bigger than what you can control. You'll be calling my name to all your prospectives like you went to highschool with DiCaprio. You won't get the rub by association, Roland. The wins will be mine. The gold will be mine, and mine alone. Fuck you. Smile that little bit more; humbled and graceful".
"Crystal clear, Roland. Heard every word".
"Perfect. Now, time to get the hell out of here. Let's go take some miracles of my own".
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----| Proving Ground XXV |----
∞
T h e K r a k e n
S w i n d l e
----| S h e l l d r a k e |----
P r o f a n e O f f i c e W o r k
"Mr. Raith will see you now".
Let's get this over with.
Thudurrr....Thudurrr....Thudurrr....Thudurrr....
"There's that creaking of the lift again. Someone really should put this thing out of its misery already, sounds like a deathrattle every time the tiny wheels reach another floor. Always makes the same screech at the 13th floor. Pretty on the nose, but fits this place like a glove. I hate it here. Just standing in this dank, dark cell feels like it's sapping the minutes from your life with every widow's wail of the car. Adding it onto his, I'm sure. Can't say I'm too surprised to be back here again, not after the last time. Or the last half-dozen, not that I'm keeping count or anything. One minute I'm counting the clacks and chatters of this damned box, and the next I'm in his cushy 'executive' office, with all the stuffy old libraries a human could get into this room, the corner window to see the skylines of Los Angeles, and the pristine mahogany desk. It's so clean that you'd be within your right to think nobody worked on it whatsoever. Nothing about this room looks like it's the day-to-day work dwelling of an actual human. Too clinical. Too many things in their place. Speaking of not human, this is Roland Raith here after all. He's shouting at me but all I can concentrate on is his lack of a second monitor on the desk. He's really slumming it up with one screen while in an office like this. Oh yeah, you're in my head now too. You get to see just what's really distracting to me, pick up on everything, hopefully you don't get too cosy in this noggin of mine".
"I look up to see him pacing around. Again. He likes to do that when he's angry. The smart suit and the usual detachment and the silence over his moving lips can't hide the frustration and disappointment in his aura. And yes, I did say looking up at him. This five foot four, pint-sized pocketrocket sits me down on this tiny leather-backed visitor's chair like it's the naughty chair in kindergarden, and gives me the shpiel for the thousandth time. Talking down to me. To me. I'm the tallest string bean in town and he's talking down to me. Not even sitting me in front of his desk, that's a little low, even for him. Roland Raith can be a real cunt when he wants to be. I don't need to hear what he's saying to know, and he's in full cunt mode today. And before you ask; no, I won't repeat the vulgar stuff he's currently berating me with, gotta spare a thought for any kids that might be watching".
"He's a cunt, not Shakespeare".
"Arata".
"Although, as healthy as it is to drown out anything that Roland says with whatever else can latch onto my interest, there's a name to remember. He just had to say it, cut through even my defence.....I wonder what Arata is doing now. Might be too busy brooding his way to the arena, trying for the whole dark and mysterious thing. Would say that I'd at least respect the effort to sound more world-weary and travelled than he really is....but who and I kidding, I absolutely don't respect any of that. Not really. It's all about the perception. He's a useful tool to have, hardly the worse fate, even if it's a little objectifying...and for such a proud warrior, hahaha. Always play to their side when needed, and make them know it. Let's face it, I'm not exactly hiding that I don't like the guy. It's all to serve a purpose. If we were at each other's throats a few weeks ago, then nobody would have won at Night of Honor. Simple as that. Same thing when we faced Vikings season four and the hip-drip-skips. Huh, would be a pretty shit band name that. But I digress, It's not a secret that my teams with these people have purely been to serve a greater meaning. To advance upwards. If they come with, then fine. It's just further to push them down when the time comes. And the time will come. It always does. Arata might be the stronger of the rest that are wanting to take the title.....I wouldn't be dumb enough to deny that.....fuck sake, Night of Honor sucked. The shogun swept in and took some glory at my expense, tapping out to that Fallout fuck. Pretending to be bigger than the team like he's holier than thou. At the very least I make an overt promise of my duplicity, Arata. i don't want it to be anyone's fault but your own when it just so happens to be me standing at the top, and you with a knife in all your backs. Don't beat around the bush, just embrace that you're a fuckhead like me and get on with it. Should go buy himself a personality, and maybe he can get over this chip on his shoulder for once. I'd actually like to not have him hovering around for once. There's more to Proving Ground than Arata Asakura. There has to be, Jesus Christ. Practically I'm doing a public service of letting all of you into my head and it's not Arata doing it, wouldn't want to wish that audiobook onto anyone, not even my most bitter enemies. Would be more boring than Roland's....whatever he's rambling on about now".
"I do wonder what Arata would even be able to accomplish if it were him in a singles contest for the top title. If he finally got what he's been whining about all along, chips are down, and it's time to actually deliver. The doubt there makes it interesting, even if in hindsight we'd all say he had no chance anyway. Then again, perception is reality, and fucking hell Arata Asakura somehow has more buzz than he has any right to be holding. I'm better than him....I know I am.....Singles means nothing when that isn't the road we're on. Mark Hunter got the nice little handicap that a former Grand Champion deserves in this fight, and the other two are barely worth a mention. I am better than both of them. Better than all of them....I....I know I am.....Knowing isn't reality, Swindle. You dumbass. Don't forget it. Jay might have fallen last time, but it's still a loss that falls on your shoulders. You're in the one in this fucking Grand Championship match. It's your loss too".
"It's your loss too".
"....And the week before that.....I was even more of a joke. The tiny pissbaby kraken can't even shoo away some nobodies with a win. JÖRMUNGANDR in the fucking mud. Get a fucking grip, Swindle. You're in this match for a reason, even if you fucking suck right now. It's not about how you start, it's how you finish. I know I can't beat every single man in this title match by myself, nobody can. Yes they can. The one can do it. As long as he stands, I'm totally and utterly fucked. Proper fucked. Fucked from here till Sunday when the cows come home. We're all fucked, and he'll be standing there too. Ozymandias. I'm practically an Ozymandias fanboy, you know? That's what they say anyway. The whole octopus, kraken, Cthulhu vibe whatever. There can only be one apparently, so that's what I am now. I'm the second, shitty one. That's the perception. And it's reality. I saw a sign in the crowd with something like that on it too. Can't remember where, don't really want to remember. Arata tries to hard to instil fear and some form of intimidation....but Ozymandias scares me. For the first time in my life I don't know what his endgame is. Is there even one to begin with? Just like that bullshit match with Jason Long, the real outcome of this match can be taken out of my hands. First it was Elena, who can also fuck off. And now, it's the other champion. Can't tell if Ozymandias would wish me to lose and sink into the ground, or for Arata to be vanquished before the title match. or he could just pummel both of us into the ground and barely bat an eye. I'm scared of that. Of him".
"Roland tries too hard as well. There's no way he can really make me flinch while sitting here, it's all a routine exercise in ignoring the critic anyway. They try too hard....Ozymandias doesn't need to. It's innate. Even if they don't see it the same way, all fearless and the like. I can front that barrier to the soul better than anyone else.....but it won't do anything. It can't stop the shake in my hand. Might just be beginner's nerves if I cared less. Welcome to a new age, Swindle, you're on the big stage now. On the big stage and even the scum of the earth are enough to bleed a draw out of you. Blood from a stone. The only stone in Project: Honor that can bleed. They're out here nearly making miracles happen while I'm here. Fucking hell, Roland hasn't shut up yet".
"Stay close to the river and cry".
"And the river's gonna feel you're the god of rain".
"He's gonna worship you like god and creator for ages".
"And all the faeries of the forest will come".
"They wanna so you to the dance of night".
"......"
"I can't remember the next line....Huh. Miracles....is it best to just have the god-given gift to make them so....or to try harder than anyone else and fail anyway. They're all pushing against false walls, pretending they're really fighting something. They'll all be comfortable in their positions. Arata can be a comfortable name, already is. Ozymandias, he has that gift. The gift of miracles. Holding our fates in his hands. Be it Roland or whoever wants to boot me off the bus in the next town....no amount of 'NEXT UP' awards can really make up for standing under the sword of fucking Damocles. Hype is just that, and I'm losing what I have, and what I could already have. A loss to Arata means he is in actuality the real contender amongst us. At least, higher than me. That would be digging my own grave for Roland to piss on, and holy hell I can't give this cunt the satisfaction of me failing. I'm both the golden boy of his potential clients and in the doghouse at the same time. Nothing is good enough. Never is. Beating Arata won't be good enough either....for him....or me".
"But, being able to well and truly shut him down as anything but a mopey sideliner in this chaos would help in the long run. Losing would help too, become less of a looming threat to the rest before the match, really fly in under the radar.....Swindle....once again, you're a fucking dumbass. I have to win this. Ozymandias won't care. He's a force of nature. I won't be safe no matter the result. I'm fucked no matter what.....Rub salt in Arata's eyes before that, get a point on the board. Have them all struggle and fight and die while you stay the only one willing to really overcome fear, overcome adversity.....overcome miracles to become Grand Champion. A shogun is just the beginning. Killing a killer. Sounds like a good way to assert myself. To them, and to me. I am the Kraken....whatever that means, Little Ozyboy. Win the match here. Die at his hands when it really matters. But this matter-only the gold matters. I deceive and lie and betray my way to the top not out of charity or just some fun thrill ride. I need to.....I'm not good enough to beat any of them otherwise".
"Accept that already. Fuck sake. Get a grip".
"Do I make myself clear?"
"Oh shit, that's my cue. Smile in place, every glint in the eyes where they should be. Internal crisis quelled to nothing, just as usual. Keep him none the wiser. The look of understanding, and absorption of his words, absolutely. I have failed and messed up, and will do anything and everything in my power to get into Roland Raith's good books once again you smug piece of shit. I'll use this all to break away from whatever you want from me. Eventually I'll be bigger than what you can control. You'll be calling my name to all your prospectives like you went to highschool with DiCaprio. You won't get the rub by association, Roland. The wins will be mine. The gold will be mine, and mine alone. Fuck you. Smile that little bit more; humbled and graceful".
"Crystal clear, Roland. Heard every word".
"Perfect. Now, time to get the hell out of here. Let's go take some miracles of my own".
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