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Thaddeus Duke · (02-19-2017)

Thursday, January 19, 2017 | 11:34 PM Local Time | Undisclosed Location | The Middle East

Journal Entry of Thaddeus Duke:

My father would question my judgment, there’s no doubt whatsoever about that. James will be furious. This could very well land him in hot water with the King, but it’s the only way I know how to do it. I’m sick and tired of sitting around twiddling my thumbs and doing nothing as we wait for this source to come through or that communication from either the Church or Illuminatus intelligence. We’re a secret team that is so secret, when we snap our fingers nothing happens. Yes it’s a movie quote. No I don’t care. It’s relevant to the current events, or non-events as the case is.

We’ve been holed up in this tiny house- and house is a term I’d use very loosely- for three days. I have to tell you, I almost regret entering this… this war. It honestly causes me to tip my hat to the American forces that have remained in this shit hole region for almost thirteen years now. I can’t say it’s a new respect because I’ve never had respect for them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to ssy that I looked down upon them or that I had no respect for them. What I mean is that I never really gave it much thought. For my entire short life I’ve been engulfed with Illuminatus business and orchestrating victory in not one, but two wars. My focus was solely on our goals and what we wanted. I never really acknowledged the existence of the world outside of ours.

I’ve come to realize though, that’s the wrong way to look at things. We’re extremely fortunate that other nations did not intervene. Not when we staged the coup in Germany. Not when we invaded Poland, mirroring a very evil German regime from seventy years ago. Not when we invaded Italy and surrounded the Vatican by land, air and sea. The United States government has a propensity to meddle in foreign affairs. It has made them hated more than loved the world over. However, I’d be remiss if I did not recognize their mite. Had they intervened in Germany, or Poland or Italy, I suspect the outcome would be far different than the outcome we enjoyed. Our military is very strong, but it’s also not that big. The American military could have overwhelmed us with sheer numbers. Our military would have fought them hard, but we would have lost and I have no doubts about that.

I have lived an interesting albeit short life to this point. I know nothing more than war and battle. It’s all I’ve ever known. This last year since the conclusion of the war with the Church has done little to interest me beyond increasing my knowledge of the world and its history. Entering professional wrestling like my father had has proved to be my only battling, but sometimes that’s not enough. We’ve planned and planned and digested every bit of intelligence that we could only to be ordered to wait. Not only by my father, but also by the Pope.

Fuck that.

I’m tired of waiting.

Jim, Ariana, her fellow murderer, they can wait.

I’m not.

I gotta break this cage I’m in.

After penning in his journal, the Prince stands to his feet and grabs his cloak sitting nearby. The entire reason they were waiting is that the Intelligence from both the Church and the Illluminatus have suggested the same thing: the splinter cell that is their current target, is aware of the Prince’s presence. The house they’re holed up in is being watched.

The young heir is throwing caution to the wind. He has decided to use himself as bait to draw out the cell. At last report, this particular cell had four, possibly a fifth member plus a courier. The problem is, he hasn’t clued in his team. They’re totally unaware of his plan. It’s a huge gamble and the odds are better than 50/50 that the Prince of the Illuminatus will not survive.

Thaddeus Duke looks around the room at his sleeping brethren, then quietly slips out after putting on his cloak and raising the hood. Once outdoors, his heartbeat remains cool and steady. He walks the dirt and sand covered streets, or in this case, what passes as streets at a very slow pace, carefully reading his surroundings and knowing he’s being stalked. He saw the man as soon as he stepped from the safe house.

Prince Thaddeus, the heir to the Illuminatus throne and its’ Minister of Defense rounds a corner where three men standing in front of a plain white Hyundai van, brandishing assault rifles point their weapons at him. Thaddeus stops and backs up a few steps. The taller of the three men begins to bark orders in Farsi, a language the young Prince has very little knowledge of. Ignoring the command, he turns around, where two others, including the man that was stalking him, raise their rifles. Trapped like a wounded gazelle surrounded by hungry lions, Thaddeus drops to his knees, with his hands raised.

”I am unarmed,” Thaddeus lies to his would-be captors. He carries no guns, but he’s certainly armed. His decision to do this, however reckless, doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. The kid likes his chances against less than a half dozen men who have far inferior intellect. One man steps forward, ripping the cloak from the Prince, revealing his royal clothing.

The five men converse in their foreign tongue. The fact that he’s the Prince is known to them as he heard his own given name used multiple times. A man steps forward and strikes the Prince in the side of the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out cold.

Back at the Vatican, the King has retreated to his office. Mundane tasks annoy him greatly, but they’re necessary to the continuation of their state. His tasks today include the signing of check payments to Poland, Italy, and Germany. A gesture of good will from the Illuminatus toward the people they’ve conquered.

The monotony is broken up as Matthew, the Intelligence Minister bursts through the office door covered in sweat and out of breath. The King remains cool, continuing to sign checks and not really noticing Matthew’s state.

”What is it?” he asks, not bothering to look up.

”We’ve intercepted something,”” Matthew answers, still out of breath.

It is only now that Sebastian Duke realizes the state of Matthew’s demeanor. ”What do you got?”

Matthew ventures further into the King’s office and turns on the flat screen television hanging on the wall. The television is connected straight to the Intelligence bureau so that the King may see whatever they see. On the screen is a person upon their knees, shrouded in an all black covering. The darkness is evident and brightened by flood lights. Five men surround the one on their knees waving Arabian swords.

”Is this recorded?”

Matthew looks at his leader, ”no sir, this is live. We intercepted the feed from the Islamic State. Their intention was to broadcast on their intranet.”

Sebastian Duke stands up from his desk and travels to its end, electing to sit upon the desks edge. One of the men rips off the black covering, revealing the King’s son. Sebastian jumps to his feet, ”GAS UP THE FUCKING PLANE!” he orders.

Matthew’s jaw is dropped open. He had no inclination that Thaddeus Duke was beneath the covering. He only brought this feed to the King because it was from the region in which Thaddeus and his team were positioned.

”Yes?” says the voice on the other end of the line to which Matthew dialed.

”Samuel, its Matthew. Gas up the plane. The King’s orders.”

”How soon?”

”Yesterday.

“Prince Thaddeus is in trouble.”

Matthew can’t help but to watch along with his King. Seconds go by which seem like an eternity. A man in the video steps forth, holding his long sword high. He then swings it swiftly toward Thaddeus Duke…

Signal Loss, flashes on the screen.

”THADDEUS!”

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