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Thaddeus Duke · (07-25-2020)

The Office of Dr. Lewis DeVille || Midtown Manhattan

”A man’s moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream.”
-William Faulkner

I have been all over the map, figuratively and literally, when it comes to showing anyone this part of my life- why I ran. It’s an integral question as to why I donned a mask and became known as The Collector. Short lived on the television screens in the XWF to be sure, but I was Jameson Henry off camera for nearly a year.

Part of me wants to show you why, but even this part of my story, my history, isn’t the full truth. Really, it was the tipping point. Why I ran, was a culmination of many smaller incidents that prayed upon my mind and my conscience not only as a leader of a sovereign nation, but as a man. What you’re about to witness is the part of my history as Thaddeus Duke that sent me running. Not out of fear, but out of guilt.

”Welcome, come in,” Doctor DeVille says with a smile as he shakes my hand. I throw myself down on the lounger and lie back. ”I see you’re without the mask?” he states, pointing out the obvious.

”I left Alister Henry’s house,” I answer him. ”I’m going by my birth name again.”

”That’s good to hear,” he says with a smile. Most assuredly he thinks it was something he said that made me take it off, but really, it was mostly Liz. Not beginning a relationship on an obvious lie is paramount to its success.

”So Thaddeus,” he says smugly. ”When we last spoke you said you were ready to talk about why you ran from a rather remarkable life?”

”I did, yeah.”

”Is that still the case?”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to just abandon this plan altogether. The difficulty doesn’t lie with the story itself. It lies entirely with me verbalizing what happened. Though I have thought about the incident many times, I’ve never opened up about it.

”It still is, yes,” I answer him.

”Whenever you’re ready.”

ILLUMINATUS ONE PLUNGES INTO LONG ISLAND SOUND, LEADER FEARED DEAD

That’s the headline scrolling across all the news stations and the scrolling billboards in New York as James Edwards, my chief of staff sees through wide open eyes and a shocked expression on his face. Seeing pieces of Illuminatus One, my personal jumbo jet, burning on the surface of the water, one can be forgiven for thinking it could be any plane, but the blue Illuminatus iron cross was clearly visible on the tail piece just before it sank beneath the waves.

”Get me Sebastian Duke!” Jim orders of his personal secretary. She stands frozen, unable to move. Unable to peel her eyes from the images on the television. ”NOW!”

”Jim, I have Janet on line two,” she informs him a few moments later. Janet is Janet Wilson, dads secretary at Veneres International in Virginia.

”Janet, it’s Jim,” he says quickly. ”Is Sebastian in the office?”

”He just came back a few minutes ago,” she answers before clicking him over to my father’s office.

”Jim what’s up?” he asks as he starts multitasking and completing some work on his cell.

”Turn on the TV.”

”What station? What am I looking for?” he asks as he grabs the tv remote.

”It won’t matter,” Jim answers stoically.

My father says nothing. He only drops his cell to the floor, plops into his office chair and drops his office phone to the desk.

I sit in my private office aboard Illuminatus One staring out the window as we begin to cross Long Island Sound. There’s so much on my mind, most of it related to the Ares Project and their numerous attempts to kill me. Wondering to myself that had I taken it seriously from day one how things might have turned out differently. So many have died because of my failure to act. All of their lives, their blood is on my hands, their deaths are on my conscience.

One thing is certain: I’m so deathly sick and tired of my people dying. They’ve bled enough for me. If I said I hadn’t pondered options to take myself out of the equation I’d most assuredly be lying. The thing is though, no matter how many times my people die for me, it’s next man up. They’d all bravely die for me and that’s simultaneously heartwarming and gut wrenching.

I want it to stop.

I want my people to live.

I’m tired of death and destruction.

I’m 20 years old and me and my people have been victorious in three wars. But at what cost? Thousands have died on my watch, following my orders, or failing to act when I should have.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a streak of light. It was just a split second between the streak of light and the explosion that rocks the plane in flight, throwing me out of my chair and smashing my head against the wall. So quick that it didn’t even register until after I was cleaning debris from my hair. After brushing myself off I dart out of my office door and bolt for the cockpit to find out what happened.

It’s hard to ignore the fact that this plane is descending. People are clearly panicking as I make my way to the front, but I ignore them for the moment. Just as I reach for the cockpit door, another explosion rocks the plane in the other direction, throwing me again, this time crashing into people. I get back to my feet again, aching from being thrown twice and blood trickling down my face.

Limping, I reach the cockpit door again and burst inside. Buzzers and warning lights and sounds make it difficult to hear each others voices. The plane begins to descend even steeper.

”What the fuck happened!?” I ask, knowing full well what the answer is. You don’t become a veteran of three wars without knowing what a missile strike looks like from the corner of your eye.

”We’re hit, sir!”

Obviously.

”Get us back to the airstrip!”

”That’s a negative, sir!”

”I wasn’t asking!”

”Sir, we can’t control the descent!”

I can feel the color drain from my face. I said I was a veteran of three wars but I also flew fighter jets. I’m fully aware of what’s coming but my minds eye won’t allow me to reach that conclusion yet. Looking out the window toward the back of the plane, the wing is shredded and the flames fly in the winds.

”Set it down on the water then, like Sully did on the Hudson years ago!”

Again, I know it’s not possible, yet I try.

”Sully had wing flaps! He hit birds, not missiles!”

I turn to look back at the people, nervously looking out the windows on both sides of the burning jumbo jet.

”Get to the pod!” the pilot yells to me, referring to the escape pod. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. The captain goes down with the ship, as they say.

”I’m not leaving my men, Captain!”

”Get to the fucking escape pod! If you die, they’re all lost!”

They’re. Not we’re.

”Fuck that! A leader doesn’t abandon...”

”Bullshit! You have about two minutes to get out of here before we’re too low for your chute to open!”

I say nothing as my heart races.

“Do you really think those that remain are safer because you’re dead, or with you alive to lead them back!?”

He’s right. Just because I’m dead, doesn’t mean my people are safe. It only means that I’m not here to watch it happen. Certainly that has its perks too, but even still, he’s right and I have to go. The jet starts to plummet steeper as I start ascending toward the back of the plane. The escape pod fits only one person. It’s basically an egg shaped shell that opens after it clears the belly and starts free falling.

After strapping into my parachute I climb into the pod. I hit a small red button and the pod locks and shoots me out the belly like a rocket. Just a few seconds later, the pod opens and separates, leaving me free falling toward the ocean below. For a moment, I consider not pulling the cord to open the chute. I consider just plummeting to the water and allowing nature to do what it does: swallow us whole.

I said just a moment.

I pull the cord and the chute opens. The canopy catches air and I’m ripped upward somewhat violently for a moment before starting a slow descent. I turn to look back at Illuminatus One. My jet is descending faster and faster as it continues to blaze. I wonder how scared those on board are. They’re descending to their deaths, I know it and so do they, and guilt starts to overtake me.

The plane splashes into the water and explodes on impact. My eyes burst into tears. 131 more lives are lost because I live. Below, jet fuel burns on the surface.

I allow the wind to guide me to shore as I watch what remains of Illuminatus One burn. To be clear, I don’t care about the plane. I have others. I have plenty of material things and I could lose them all and replace them all a thousand times over. Nothing though, can replace the loss of life. I continue to live and breathe and so many have died and continue to die because of that fact.

Once on land, I retrieve my cellphone from my pocket after discarding my parachute. Miraculously, it survived being thrown around a plane and the descent back toward the Earth with just a cracked screen. I sit on the beach overcome with grief and guilt wondering just how to end all of the suffering my life brings to others as I watch the remains of Illuminatus One burning on the surface.

I send one text and only one, to the only person that matters at this moment: Jim.

”I’m alive. Pretend I’m not.”

”Do you still think that was the right move?” Doc asks as I wipe tears from my eyes.

I shrug as I lie there. I don’t really know the answer to that.

”You put on a brave face more often than not. Maybe not as much recently, but maybe you did need a break from it. Maybe you needed to not be you for a little while to reevaluate what living that life means to you.”

”I still see their faces, Doc,” I say to him, wiping more tears from my eyes. “I can’t shake it.”

”No,” he replies. ”People like you feel loss in the very depths of your soul.”

”I thought leaving would save others.”

”Did it?”

”For a time. The militia group that shot down my plane and killed my people… they’re still active,” I inform him as I stand up.

”I know our time is up for today, but I have one last question before you go back to Connecticut.”

I look at him, not entirely sure what he’s about to ask me.

”That group that killed your people and wants you dead, you’re active again too,” he prefaces his question. ”The question is, what do you plan to do about it?” Okay, so maybe I did know what he was going to ask. And really there’s just one answer. It’s the only answer. It’s the right answer.

”I’m going to do what I have to do, Doc,” I begin to explain to him. ”It will involve more death, that much is certain.” I lean onto his desk. The tears are gone. The hurt inside buried once more. No endearing, disarming smile. Just Thaddeus Duke the war commander, Thaddeus Duke the leader of the Illuminatus Nation. My eyes cold, but aflame with fury.

”I’m going to pick them apart, Doc,” I tell him. “I’m going to do what I should have done a year ago. I’m going to annihilate them.” I exit his office, leaving him with a disconcerting smile. I don’t know whether he agrees with that decision or not but I can’t worry about that. I have a job to do and a role to play and I’ve avoided that for far, far too long. Enough is enough and the charade is over.

The crickets chirp in the dark of night. Thaddeus snoozes by the fire under the stars with a smile on his face and wearing a ‘The Collector’ hoodie (on clearance now at XWF99Shop.com). Liz is curled up next to him wearing a Lionheart hoodie. She shivers and slaps him in the chest.

”Throw another brick on the fire, I’m getting cold.”

Thaddeus tosses a few stacks of hundreds into the flames.

”Why are you smiling? Were you having that Shawn Mendes dream again?”

”Yep.”

”Where was I?” she asks, feigning sadness and slapping him in the shoulder

”Ohhh you were there, darlin’, you were very much there.”

”Good,” she says as she falls back to sleep.

Thaddeus throws a few more stacks of hundreds into the flames.

Are you special, TK? I don’t mean special as in an extraordinary talent because you really aren’t that. I mean special as in window licking, helmet wearing, short bus special. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

The reason this is coming up is that I saw your promo and you seem to miss the fact that the Collector is no more. You seem to have entirely glazed over the fact that even on Warfare, the announcers were calling me Thaddeus Duke. You released your promo several hours after mine where I reveal without a doubt that I am me. So you mean to tell me in the time between Warfare and waiting around on the XWF cameras to show up to shoot your little promo that you didn’t think it might be wise to do a little homework on me?

Granted, I haven’t really been relevant in the XWF in a few years and I freely admit that, and the last time anyone saw me without my mask, I was fired by my Uncle Theo. Still though, I have a history here but you chose not to find it. I don’t know what my Savage record is or isn’t, but I did hold the Television title once before and on Sunday night, I’m going to hold it again.

I’ve debated this in my mind for the better part of two weeks: what to do with the title when I win. See, Thunder Knuckles hates ‘Welfare’ as he calls it so much that I can think of no bigger embarrassment than for him to lose that title to me and I take it to Warfare where I defend it. They can strip me of it. They can book me on Savage where I won’t show up causing me to forfeit. That choice is theirs to make, but one thing is very clear: the TV title that ole TK loves and lost possession of, is as good as mine. Page might hold the physical belt, but bet your ass I’ll be coming to collect it.

Side note: fire Jimmy. He makes you look like an even bigger idiot than you already are. The Collector lasted all of three matches. Thaddeus Duke though, goes back years.

Let me be clear, you do not KNOW Alister Henry. You never met Liz, that I can assure you. I know my life is so grand and so wonderful that it makes you long for your inclusion in it, but please, be less pathetic than intimating that you know my people when you clearly don’t even know your opponent. Unless your goal is to make people cringe, I wouldn’t make a habit of trying to hijack the lives of your opponents.

I did you a favor by revealing who I was BEFORE you dropped a promo in order to allow you time to properly prepare and you failed. Even before that, I dropped hint after hint after hint, and you FAILED. A champion that isn’t prepared, is no real champion. You’re being schooled by a ‘kid’ that outclasses you in just about every facet of what we do. Your final exam comes Sunday at Leap of Faith, TK. Obviously you’ve taken leap of faith literally and didn’t do your homework, didn’t study. You’re about to show millions all over the world just what failure really looks like.

TK, you’ve been skating the last few months, escaping as champion by the skin of your tooth and that ends on Sunday night in Japan. Your reign is over, Scooter. Get used to it. Accept it. Then crawl back to Atticus White and beg forgiveness for losing his title to Warfare. It’s an inevitability at this point.

Your luck has run out. The buck, or rather, xbuck stops here. Insert more cliches here. Clearly… CLEARLY… you aren’t the champion your recent string of luck suggests you are. And you know what they say- luck is for losers.

He throws a few more stacks of hundreds into the flames as the scene fades.

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