Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Thaddeus Duke · (05-05-2017)

The Year 2514 | 11:40 PM | Connecticut County | American Empire

A fifteen year old Thaddeus Duke lies on the floor of his living quarters inside the Compound. Except in the year 2514, the Compound as we know it, is Duke Palace. The headquarters of the American Empire and its King, George.

”Tax the small villages!” a loud, very boisterous voice yells from somewhere outside the room. Thaddeus opens his eyes and blinks away the sleep. He stares at the ceiling, squinting, trying to make sense of things. ”If they refuse to pay the tax, Geoffrey, it’s really quite simple. Then burn the damn villages. Every last damn one of them!” the man yells.

The door to the room in which Thaddeus lies, creaks open. Startled, Thaddeus sits up, looking around. ”Intruder!” yells a man as he closes the door after exiting quickly. ”King George! Stay put until we subdue this criminal!”

”Criminal?” Thaddeus asks himself. Quickly he picks himself up from the floor and heads for the door in which Geoffrey just exited. ”No, you don’t understand!” Thaddeus gives chase, but he wobbles and loses his balance as soon as he tries to move, dropping to his knees.

The door bursts open again as a pair of guards enter the room and apprehend the apparent intruder. With Thaddeus secure, Geoffrey and King George enter the room. ”What do you have to say for yourself boy?”

”I uh… I kind of...” he stammers, unable to find the words he’s looking for.

”Out with it boy!

“What is your name?”

”Name?” Thaddeus questions.

”Your name. What do people call you?”

”Uhhhh…. Hmmmm….”

”You trying to be cute with me boy?”

”WHAT? NO! It’s just….” each and every time Thaddeus searches for an explanation, he loses his train of thought as if there is some great disconnect between though, and the ability to speak.

”Young man,” Geoffrey interrupts. ”If you can not tell us why you’re here, then the King will have no choice but to detain you until you talk.”

”I don’t know anything.” Thaddeus’ face is contorted in such a way that his usual boyish features make him look 30 years senior.

”You know nothing?”

”My apologies your Highness. I just… I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything at all.”

”Maybe a few nights in the dungeon will refresh your memory then.

“GUARDS!”

”Dungeon?

“WAIT!”

“Now you remember eh?

“What say you then?”

”What’s a dungeon?”

King George laughs. Then Geoffrey laughs. Geoffrey raises his hands, signaling the guards to laugh, and they do so on command. ”Chain him up in the dungeon. No bread, no water until he talks.”

The guards forcefully yank Thaddeus to his feet and guide him out of the Kings bedroom and into the hallway. They turn left and head down the winding spiral stone staircase to the ground floor of the Compound. Once on the lower level they head down the main corridor, passing the large kitchen on the left and the library that today acts as a meeting room, or a planning room, on the right. They pass by Thaddeus’ office and pass by the Gothic style church in which for years, Thaddeus’ grandfather Asmodeus, ever the orator, inspired hundreds of Illuminatus men to follow his dream.

At the end of the main corridor, they turn left, then an immediate right and head down the stairwell leading to the basement of the Compound, which is now the dungeon of Duke Palace. They head through the torture chamber at the bottom of the stairs and into the cell room. There’s no longer cells, just stone walls with chains attached to them with iron bolts.

The guards handle Thaddeus fairly rough as they toss him to the stone floor and prepare his shackles. It only takes a few seconds, and the young man is imprisoned, chained to the wall being forced to stay standing. After the guards exit, Thaddeus tries to use his weakened strength to yank himself free. Realizing its no use, he sighs deeply.

”Why can I not remember anything?”

...Two Hours Later...

Thaddeus slips in and out of consciousness as his body weight contorts his arms in an upward and back position. He’s startled awake by the creak of a door and metal clanging of the guards armor along with the heavy footsteps of the large guards. They’re dragging in another person. This one, much larger than himself. Noticeably tall and thick. The guards struggle to chain him up but manage to do so with little fight from the new prisoner. Once the newest prisoner is secure, one guard turns to Thaddeus.

”You!”

”What?”

Thaddeus thinks to himself that the new prisoner is staring at him, making him far more uncomfortable than he already was.

”King George wishes to know if you remember anything yet.” The way the guard says the word ‘remember’ makes Thaddeus think they don’t believe him. What’s more, is if he does remember something and tell them, then they won’t believe him then either.

”I’m sorry.

“Not yet.”

”Not even a name?

“Or why you trespassed in the King’s palace?”

”No.”

Without another word, the guards disappear.

”But you do remember your name, don’t you Thaddeus?” the other prisoner speaks out once he’s sure the guards are out of ear shot.

And the truth is, Thaddeus did know his name. In fact he knew it from the very beginning when he opened his eyes inside the King’s bedroom. He chose to claim he didn’t remember because clearly he can’t make sense of anything. Until he can, he thought it wise to play the fool.

”How do you know my name?” Thaddeus asks his new prison friend.

”I’m a friend of your fathers,” the man replies.

”What’s your name?”

”Is it important?”

”Sort of.”

”Sebastian,” he answers. After answering, the large man starts struggling against his restraints.

”You’re wasting your time. The bolts are too strong.”

”They’re strong alright. But they didn’t anticipate a 300 pound man with enough strength to carry both of those big ass guards.” Repeatedly, he slams his wrists forward as far as they can go. Slowly and surely, the bolt securing the shackles to the wall begins freeing itself from the stone wall. After a few tiring minutes, Sebastian is free.

Without saying anything, Sebastian leaves Thaddeus and exits via the torture chamber. Alone again, Thaddeus sighs deeply. Momentarily he tries to do what Sebastian did to free himself, but its useless. Seconds later, Sebastian returns carrying an ax.

”Wait! What are you doing with that!?”

”Saw this in a movie once, and I always wanted to try it.” Sebastian swings without warning, crashing its blade into the bolt securing Thaddeus’ chains to the wall. The bolt splits and Thaddeus is freed.

”That was kind of scary.”

”It worked!

“Jack would have fit on that damn door!”

”Who’s Jack?”

”Never mind.”

”How are we getting out of here? I came through that hallways, there’s guards everywhere.”

”Luckily for us, and not so much for them, I know this place better than they do.

“Follow me.”

Thaddeus does as Sebastian tells him and follows him into the torture chamber. Beneath a human torture rack lies a large hole in the floor covered with steel bars. Sebastian lifts one end of the rack and Thaddeus the other. Together, they move the structure away from the hole. Once its removed, it is revealed that a broken bar covering the hole makes it just wide enough for a man to slide through. Thaddeus goes first, and then Sebastian…

...Present Day...

Thaddeus lies on his bed and opens his eyes abruptly. Sweat is pouring from his forehead and he breaths heavily.

”Dad was there!” Thaddeus exclaims to himself as he wipes the sweat and the sleep from his eyes.

Thaddeus applauds. Slowly.

How nice of you Chris, to take yourself away from the man hole you’ve been burying your meat into all week and finally joining me for Savage. I’d say I was worried you wouldn’t show your face after your recent embarrassments like losing my future Universal championship to Gabe Reno and losing to Doc for the tag team titles, but you are your own biggest fan and your ego won’t allow you to just not show your ridiculous face. I’m not here to validate your unwarranted ego, Chris. I’m not here as feeder to buffer your win total. I’m here to win. I’m here to do what I do better than anyone else including you, and that is steal the show.

I know what it is to be ones own biggest fan Chris, I really do. But there’s a way to do it with a little bit of class and just a touch of integrity. You lack both of those. You fell for the same trick Micheal Graves fell for months ago. I come out on XWF programming drop a promo and barely even mention you. Treat you like an after thought. You know, the same way you treat me and everyone else around here. I set the bait and like the stupid little crappy that you are, you bit. You bit and you swallowed, just like Graves did.

You call it scrambling. I call it planting a dumb bitch on his ass where he belongs.

You expected to get into a war of words with me? How did you expect that to happen? Telepathy?

So yeah you came out here, at long last and you dropped your one and only promo. Exuding your own arrogant overconfidence. Your thinking is that you’ve beat me before so you’ll easily do it again. I’ll remind you Chris, it wasn’t even easy the first time and you even say so yourself. But you could think that, then you could ask Doctor D’Ville what its like to face me a second time after having the same success you did.

Once.

D’Ville didn’t beat me the second time Chris. Neither will you.

Class is now in session, Mr. Jackson. Let this punk kid teach a former universal champion a lesson. If you have to tell people that you’re a villain, then you’re doing it wrong. Do we need to make it easy for you? I’m sure Jefferson Jackson would be willing to cut your overpriced paycheck a little in order to hire a sign guy for you. We could call him Sign Guy Chaos, or maybe Equally Uninteresting Cunt. What he’ll do is just hold a sign up wherever you are so that way the fans know you’re a villain. They can boo you without you having to come waste everyone’s time tell them you’re an evil evil man.

Why exactly do you call yourself Chaos? Is the name Jackson not really villain enough for you? Surely there is a huge difference between us Chris. You pretend you’re something that you’re not. You aren’t chaotic. Nothing you do exudes chaos. You’re a walking talking gimmick. Certainly one that’s overblown and way overdone. And therein, pupil, lies the difference.

Look at me.

What is it you see?

For better or worse, like me, love me or hate me when you look at me, that’s what you get. Me. No nicknames. No fancy monickers. No borrowed catchphrases like ‘best in the world at what I do.’ No Wikipedia monologues. No Oh My God facts. You get what you see. Thaddeus god damn Duke. You see the real me. The same Thaddeus Duke that hangs out with his friend Jim and used to hang out with Dolly Waters, is the same Thaddeus Duke you and everyone else watches on your television screens.

Chris, if you’re so concerned with me always, in your words, falling short, then why is your one victory over me such a feather in your cap? Why is it such a big deal to you that you’ve beaten me before? I’ll tell you why. People like you are creatures of habit. People like you get lucky once over a guy, and let’s be honest and call a spade a spade here, drawing first blood has a hell of a lot more to do with luck than it does skill, and think they’re better than they are and will always win that contest.

By the way I'm trying to figure out how I always come up short when for starters I've only lost three times, secondly, one of those losses I wasn't even involved in the decision and third, not a single time have I ever been pinned or forced to tap out. Could you say the same thing? No. No you can't.

Since you’re such a fan of borrowing things others made famous, I’ll borrow one for myself. Chris, as soon as you think you have all the answers, I change the question. In other words Chris, match two isn’t the same as match one. And match three won’t be the same as match two.

Before I forget, how exactly did the Colton Kunto screwjob affect our match? No? It didn’t effect it at all? Right. I’ll take your silence on this one as confirming what I’m saying. Let’s not pretend you were weakened by a wrestling match Chris. It’s kind of what we do here.

I’ve been asking a lot of questions and for those of you planning on awaiting a response from the deposed Universal champion, whom by the way, lost that title to a dumb cunt that I defeated with ease, don’t waste your time. Typically speaking, I’d wait too, but the rule of law here in the Xtreme Wrestling Federation dictates that he can not respond to this promo. Or the next one, should I choose to do so. Why? Because Chris Chaos is an idiot blinded by his own arrogance, overconfidence, and his own stardom. Thinking he’s so damn good and untouchable that he’d sort of mail it in this week so to speak and just cruise on by me.

AX3, is this your idea of leadership? You guys blindly follow this fucking wannabe clone of a far superior, edgier star and call him your leader? AX3 is the biggest, most disorganized, poorly led band of bitch boy ass kissing followers I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s absolutely no cohesion and communication so far as I or anyone else can tell. Where were you guys when Micheal Graves was getting his face smashed up by a fucking 13 year old girl? Is Chaos really the leader here? Or is he just a figure head because trust me on this, I know what it is to lead men into battle.

You guys are literally getting your asses handed to you on a weekly basis by my Uncle and his band of Kings. And you take it lying down because…

WHY?

A leader instills trust. A leader earns, demands and commands respect. A leader fights and wins or fights and fails along side his men, yet nobody was there to help Graves.

My Uncle Theo fires Graves and you try to bargain? The fuck kind of logic is that? If you’re gonna bargain, you need leverage and trust me when I say this, when it comes to Theo Pryce, you just don’t have a leg to stand on. He’s not easily swayed. He’s not easily convinced. He’ll buy and sell you twice before you even finish rubbing one out in the morning. You’re showing up to a gunfight without so much as a bayonet.

You’re in full retreat and you think you’re charging. This, Robert Main. This, Jim Caedus. This, Graves. This, Trax or not to Trax, is your chosen leader? It’s the blind and inept leading the deaf and dumb.

I want you to treat this moment as sort of a watershed moment. I want you to treat this like a come to Jesus moment, Chris Chaos.

And I’m happy to play the role of your savior.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Dream On: RP #2
Author	Message