Another day, another 24 hours of life spent...
On the outside, he appears to be like a God among mankind. Beautiful Women fight over themselves in large crowds just to catch a glimpse of him... and possibly much, MUCH more.
His living quarters are nothing short of amazing. Expensive equipment, statues and paintings as far as the eye can see all line the walls.
On the outside, he definitely lives up to his reputation.
On the inside however...
*RIIIIII-*
A large fist slams down on the atrocious noise maker as the bed's occupent brings himself to awakedness.
Goooood Morning America! My what a beautiful day it is today! Sun shining, birds chirping and not a cloud in the sky!
His blue eyes, rarely seen by the general public as they are usually covered by a pair of black shades, open to the new day as he uprights himself into a sitting position, letting out a yawn while popping a few joints.
He peers over to check the time.
7:30 AM
"I hate Mondays..." his deep baritone voice says.
Swinging his legs over to one side of the bed and standing up, he heads towards the bathroom to relieve himself. Passing by his reflection in the sink mirror, he can't help but smile to himself and pull of a cheesy finger gun salute.
It was when he was up washing his hands and, after a nice long hot shower that he did a double-take at his now closer reflection and analyzing his looks. He knew he was getting on in years but to really see what he looked like up close in detail brought new meaning to age before beauty.
Oh, don't get him wrong. He still looks great for his age with the daily regular exercise he participates in.
It's just... well he doesn't exactly know at this moment but it should come to him in time.
Opening up the cabinent and reaching inside, he pulls out a small bottle of vitamin pills.
"Take your pills...uh, vitamins everyday and you'll probably grow up to be as great as me someday." He remembered saying to a kid asking for his autograph.
Chuckling at the irony, he popped open the bottle and shook it upside down until 2 small pills dropped into the awaiting hand. They were promptly skulled without any water. It made him cough a few times but he righted himself with a beat of his chest.
Reaching forwards to place the bottle back into the cabinent, he can't help but glance at the conveniantly placed bottle of steroid pills he kept handy in times of need. Especailly if the situation is where Aliens who got their ass kicked over 12 years ago don't know when to fuck off and accept defeat.
For Duke however, they remind him of darker times... times when he was not the buff muscled, tough talking hero of Earth that he is now, but of times when he was a scrawny, shy and often last to be remembered little kid.
As repressed memories bubbled towards the surface of his mind, he couldn't help but frown and tighten his grip on the plastic bottle.
To put it simply, Duke Nukem's childhood was Hell.
Literally.
This project is officially abandoned/on indefinite hiatus. I wrote this most likely in 2013 and intended it to be much longer than what it currently is but procrastination is truly a bitch sometimes.
Nevertheless though, if I do find time and find myself in the mood, I may just come back to this someday. Just do not expect anything new from this story in the near future as I have other story committments as the moment.
Reviews do give me a lot of motivation when I write, so please do leave a review if you can and express anything you thought about the story.
Until next time.