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Thaddeus Duke · (05-28-2021)

Illuminatus Compound || Old Saybrook, Connecticut || 3:48 PM

The ride home to Connecticut from Manhattan had been a mixed bag of awkwardness and anxiousness. Awkwardness because now Dolly has seen first hand my therapy. She’s now witnessed not one but two of my conversations with the dead. She’s also witnessed me shamefully getting drunk and fighting my father. I’m not sure it would have broken down so quickly at my fathers place had he not said something despicable directed at her. Dolly is a lot of things, what he called her just isn’t one of them. Disrespect my friends, disrespect me, get socked in the mouth. It’s just how it is.

The anxiousness? Frankie’s home and I keep having to leave him. For work, for therapy, for Italy. After the hijacking awhile back, Frankie is still dead set against flying on any plane and just like prior to his removal from my life, I’m not trying to force that issue, but I really need him to step up today.

Entering the big house after the trip, Mufasa is there on the front steps to greet us both. After a quick stroke of his mane, we head inside.

”THAD!” Frankie yells out excitedly as his little feet stomp the marble flooring on his way down the main hall toward Dolly and I.

”WHAT!?” I reply, returning his excitement.

”Can I use your office?” Dolly asks as she takes a step toward it. ”I have some work to do while you and Frankie go nuts.”

”Never ask, just do. Mi casa es su casa.”

”You didn’t freakin’ tell me you got a bike!” he cries out as he hops up on my arm like he always did. Instead of climbing up on my shoulders, he wriggles himself into a piggyback while Dolly disappears into my office.

”Sorry Bub, I’ve been a little busy lately,” I reply to him as I carry him toward the garage. Once inside, I set him down and hit the switch to open the doors.

”That’s so cool,” he says as he runs over and starts eyeballing the old blue and white, leather clad Harley-Davidson. ”It looks older than me.”

”I got news for you buddy, that things older than me.”

”Can I sit on it?” he asks as he looks up at me.

”Absolutely you can,” I answer him with a smile. Frankie starts to climb up but stops suddenly.

”Will it tip?” he asks with a bit of a concerned look on his face.

”Buddy you’re like thirty pounds, you’re not gonna tip it,” I answer with a laugh. Excitedly he climbs up on the bike.

”I’ll have you know I was just weighed in school and I was 79 pounds!” he fires back. ”I can’t really reach the handle bars,” he says, looking up at me with his puppy dog eyes. Facts being what they are, I’ve never been able to resist this kid, so I unlock the forks.

”Scoot your butt up, Squirt,” I tell him as he inches forward a bit and I take a seat behind him then upright the bike.

”Hey don’t call me Squirt. You call Mastermind Squirt and he’s dumber than me,” he says, causing me to laugh.

”First of all, you’re not dumb and secondly I don’t call him Squirt because he’s dumb, I call him that because he’s small,” I remind him as he reaches up for the handlebars. ”I call him dumb because he’s dumb. Anyway wanna start it?”

”Don’t be ridiculous Thad,” he says, echoing me from the million times I’ve said that same phrase. ”Of course I wanna start it, but also I don’t know how,” again, he flashes his puppy dog eyes at me.

”Well let’s fix that,” I say to him as I hand him the key.

Looking at it a moment, he cranes his neck to look back at me. ”What the hell do I do with it?” he asks causing me to chuckle again.

”You see that?” I ask him, pointing toward the ignition switch. ”Lift the little door,” and he about beats me to the punch. ”Now stick the key in and turn it clockwise, then take the key out.”

After performing that procedure, he hands the key back to me.

”Turn the switch clockwise now, then hands on the bars,” I tell him. ”See those two switches next to your right hand?”

”Yeah,” he says anxiously.

”Push the right one to ‘run’,” I tell him.

”Then start?” he asks, his little thumb hovering over the switch.

”Do it, Bub!”

With zero hesitation, he hits ‘start’ and the old Harley rumbles to life. Frankie shouts with joy.

”Holy crap!” he shouts out. ”It just vibrated my balls into my brain,” he says, causing me to bust a gut with laughter. ”Can we go for a ride?” he asks as he plays with the throttle a little then hops off the bike.

”Where you goin’?”

Not answering immediately, he runs over to the shelf and grabs our helmets, then runs back to me. ”You weren’t gonna say no,” he says as he hands me my helmet. After putting it on, I help him put his on and hold out my arm. He grabs a hold and swings himself up and behind me.

”Wait, what do I hold on to?” he asks.

”Faith that I know how to ride,” I answer him facetiously.

”Thaaaaad.”

”Hold on to my sides,” I tell him as he wraps his arms around me. I kick up the kickstand and put the bike in gear. Rolling out of the garage and onto the driveway, I can feel his grip on my sides get a little tighter. The gates open as we coast down the drive. Once passed the gates, I open the throttle a ways and I can hear the little aspiring adrenaline junkie behind me shout out with joy. Out on Galileo, I run the throttle wide open after making the right turn toward the coast. Frankie’s grip on my sides gets as tight as it can possibly get but he’s having the time of his life and that’s all that matters to me.

Reaching the coastline a couple minutes later, I roll the Harley to a stop at the edge of the dead end road and kill the engine. I step off the bike before helping Frankie down. Once down, he’s a little jello legged from the vibration and he takes his helmet off then lays it on the seat. Placing my hand on the side of his head, he and I walk toward the beach as I send a quick text to Elizabeth.

Reaching down to pick up some flat rocks as we walk, ”You ever skip rocks?” I ask of him.

”Nah I don’t know how,” he says as he looks up at me.

After handing him a rock, I hold one of my own. ”Hold it like this, between your thumb and your pointer finger. Then whip your arm forward sidearm… like this,” I say, whipping the rock across the water. Skipping across the surface several times before running out of steam and plummeting beneath the calm ripples. ”You try.”

He whips his arm forward, but the rock hits the water and plummets like… well… a rock.

”Man!” he cries out dejectedly.

”No, don’t get down about it. It just takes a little practice,” I tell him. ”When you whip it forward, flick your wrist so it just rolls off your finger,” I say, demonstrating with my own hand. He tries again and it manages to skip a few times before sinking.

”See? It gets easier. Before you know it, you’ll be skipping like the pros do,” I joke.

He whips another, and skipping it goes.

”There’s professional rock skippers?” he asks.

”No,” I say with a chuckle.

”You’re good at this you know,” he says as he skips another.

”What? Skipping rocks?”

”No,” he replies, whipping a rock the skips more than a dozen times. He throws his arms up in ‘victory.’ ”I mean ‘Dad stuff’.”

Since the day I met him nearly a year ago, Frankie has always had this way of digging down deep, becoming heartfelt and genuine without warning, and rendering me speechless. I worry about being a father and he knows it. I’m too young, in all honesty. And I didn’t really have exemplary forms of fatherhood present in my life when I was growing up. Frankie’s ‘seal of approval’ just makes my day. Nothing and no one matters to me more than he- and that- does.

”You teach me stuff,” he says as he zings another rock across the surface.

”I’m not sure teaching you things is what makes a good dad kiddo.”

”Of course it does,” he says, stopping to look up at me. ”My birth dad never taught me much of anything, ‘cept how to play poker. You teach me to respect others and their feelings. You taught me how to ride a motorcycle, how to bait a fishing hook. You taught me how to swing a baseball bat… I mean I’m not very good at it, but I still try and you don’t ever let me get down on myself when I don’t so something right.

“Just today you taught me how to start your bike and how to skip rocks. And you literally just got home.”

”Thanks Bub,” I tell him. ”I try really hard to do right by you so that really mean a lot to me when you say that kind of stuff.

“Let me ask you something...

”What was it like for you?” I ask him, trying hard to hold back becoming emotional. ”I mean, when they took you away from me?” I elaborate a bit as I hand him the last rock, then take seat in the sand.

”Do I have to talk about that?” he asks as he whips the final rock then mirrors me, taking a seat in the sand beside me. I don’t like to make him uncomfortable, but at the same time, I don’t want him bottling up his feelings.

”Yes.” A small twig lies between his legs and he picks it up then begins to poke and prod at the sand. ”Want me to start by telling you what it was like for me?”

Without looking up, he nods his head.

”In the beginning, I was a wreck,” I begin to explain to him. ”I spent the first day in jail because of my outbursts in the courtroom. Then I came home, starting fixing your motorcycle...”

”What was wrong with it?”

”Nothing, I was just occupying my time,” I answer him before continuing on. ”Then I went up to your room and you weren’t in it. I started to cry a little and Mufasa did too.”

”You cried?” he asks, looking up at me.

”A lot,” I answer him honestly. ”Thing is, even before they took you, I was having a lot of doubts about being your dad.”

”Really?”

”Yeah,” I tell him as a tear rolls down my face. ”Frankie I just love you more than anything, but I’m still young myself. I’m only 22 and I really don’t have any business raising a ten year old boy. Then they took you away and then…” my voice trails off a little as I gather myself.

”And then… what?”

”I didn’t want to think about you living anywhere else, or anyone else raising you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you not being here with me. This is where you belong. For all the horror and trauma that landed at your feet… You know me Frankie I don’t believe in Gods or higher powers. But somehow I think I was supposed to meet you when I did, in the way that I did. So that when your world collapsed on your head, I was available to take out of that one and bring you into mine. To give you the life that you deserve.”

He shoots me a smile.

“Anyway, then I got in this big fight with Liz and I made her go live with Ginny...”

”Why?”

”It’s for the best,” I answer him, half trying to convince him and half still trying to convince myself. In all honesty, I have no clue whether it was for the best or not. What’s done is done though and I’m not going back anytime soon, if I ever do.

”Corey and Dolly helped me through it,” I tell him.

”I didn’t have anyone,” he says with a shaky voice. Break my heart why don’t you? ”I cried a lot too,” he says as he drops the twig and looks at me. ”I was mean to the family that took me in. Way too mean. But they wouldn’t even let me call you so I don’t regret it,” he says with a sly little smile that causes me to chuckle.

”They were weird people. They had different kids there all the time, almost daily. Someone new would show up and they’d be gone somewhere else in two days.”

”Did they treat you okay?”

Hesitation.

”Can we stop for now please?”

Over the course of my life, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. I’m not pressing him on this issue right this second. Just going by what he’s saying and what he doesn’t want to talk about, my curiosity is piqued. By curiosity, I mean he just sent up a gigantic red flag and you can bet your ass I’ll get to the bottom of it sooner or later.

”Okay,” I answer him, making a mental note to revisit this later. ”You know I gotta go to Italy, right?”

”Yeah,” he says quietly as he resumes poking the sand with the stick.

”I can’t take you with me,” I remind him. ”There’s some deep shit I gotta deal with and I just don’t know what’s gonna happen. So...”

Ding chimes my phone. Liz’s reply.

”I just got home though,” he says as a tear quietly streaks down his cheek.

”I know and I’m sorry, but it’s something I need to get out of the way before your brother and sister come,” I tell him as a tear of my own falls. I hate disappointing him and I definitely hate seeing him cry. It’s honestly the worst feeling ever. Mentioning his impending baby brother and sister though, causes him to smile a little.

”It’ll be nice when they come,” he says. ”I won’t be the smallest person in… really every house ever anymore,” he jokes, again causing me to chuckle.

”You,” I begin, gently grabbing his left shoulder. ”Are gonna make an awesome big brother, kiddo.”

”Damn right,” he says, side eyeing me as he cusses.

”Frankie,” I say with a little laugh. ”You’re gonna go to North Carolina and stay with Liz when I go to Italy,” I inform him. ”So you might want to start keeping your language in check now. You knoowwwww how much she hates it when you cuss.”

”What are you gonna do when you get back?”

”Well, then we gotta get ready to go to the Moon.”

”Really?”

I look at him.

”The Moon? Why do you have such a weird life? Who goes to the frickin’ Moon!?” he asks with a smile as he drops the twig and he and I get to our feet.

”It’s the universe we live in kiddo,” I say to him with a shrug as he and I head back to the lonely motorcycle still sitting up on the road. ”I know you’re not a fan of flying anymore, but, I really need you to be brave okay? I need you to get on the plane.”

”Is Dolly coming on the plane with us?”

”Yeah.”

”Then I’ll be fine.”

”After Leap of Faith, we’ll go take a little vacation on the yacht okay? Just you and me.”

”Cool!

...A Few Hours Later...

After dinner, it was time to get ready to leave. Italy beckoned and I wouldn’t miss it, couldn’t miss it. Almost nothing could happen for me to miss this trip. Anytime I approach Doc D’Ville it’s always in my dreams and those dreams occur in my own bed in my own bedroom at home. Something inside me, though I’m not entirely sure what, is telling me I need to be at the scene of the crime- so to speak. It’s telling me, that I need to be where all parties rest and that’s in the necropolis beneath Saint Peters Basilica. Maybe being in close proximity will allow… whatever it is… to be stronger.

”Thad?” Frankie calls out from his seat beside me. He’s been as good as can be expected on this flight. He had a life altering ordeal on the plane months ago and I don’t know if he’ll ever truly get over it. A result of that ordeal when the Ares Project hijacked my plane saw Illuminatus Two decommissioned and scrapped. This new plane, much more secure with vault style locks on the cockpit doors put an end to any possibility that we can ever be hijacked again. With the destruction of Illuminatus One when it was shot down and Two now destroyed as well, I felt it was time for a name for the fleet that didn’t have such tragedy attached to it. So before we took flight, I took Frankie around to show him all of the new safety features that I ordered in an effort to quell his fears and unveiled the name of the new fleet of jumbo airliners: Lionheart.

”Yeah Bub?” I reply to him as the plane makes its rapid descent toward the runway in North Carolina. His legs kick and bounce out of nervousness and my hope is that over time, he’ll get over his fear of flying.

”Thank you,” he says.

”For what?”

”You spent a boatload of money to make sure I feel safe when I travel with you,” he answers back, shooting me a glance.

”Frankie, there’s nothing that I won’t do for you to make you feel safe,” I reply to him. ”Getting on this plane took courage. To face what happened again was really brave and I’m so proud of you.”

”Awww!

”Shush you,” I tell her facetiously.

Knowing we’re about to touch down, I flip my hand over, palm up. Knowing it too, Frankie slams his hand in mine and squeezes. Dolly, sitting in the aisle seat, does the same and Frankie repeats the action, placing his hand in hers and squeezing as the tires screech against the pavement. With the plane now rolling and slowing toward its eventual stop, the young boy lets out a sigh of relief.

”How do you feel?” I ask of him.

”Relieved,” he answers as the plane begins to taxi toward a hangar. ”You know when you gotta pee but you can’t and have to hold it for hours, but then you can finally go and its like...” he cuts himself off, instead electing to act out the reaction with a sigh and his eyes about roll back in his head causing me to chuckle.

”I know exactly what you mean,” I reply in response. ”You ready to go meet Ginny?”

”Is my tie straight?” he asks. Back when I was the Universal Champion and touring the globe in effort to promote the company, he’d come along sometimes and whenever he did, he insisted on looking the part of the would-be son of a world champion. He liked to style his hair and wear an expensive suit and tie. He liked to top off that look with a pair of aviator sunglasses. Since then, he’s set aside the sunglasses and styled hair, but has elected to keep the style and substance of the son of a champion. And he looks damn adorable doin’ it.

”Stand up, let me see,” I tell him as the plane finally comes to a stop. After he stands, I reach up and straighten his knot. ”There you go killer, as handsome and dapper as ever.”

”Damn right,” he says with a raise of his eyebrow. I shoot him a look and he instantly know why. ”Shut up I had to get it out of my system,” he says as he steps out into the empty aisle. Dolly looks at me and shakes her head with a bit of a smile.

”What?” I return the look. ”I really don’t give a shit if he says the little ones.” Again, she smiles and shakes her head. ”Be back in a minute,” I say to her as I lead Frankie to the door. Down the steps, Ginny’s car pulls up.

”Will you make me a promise?” Frankie says looking up at me as we reach the bottom.

”Anything you want,” I answer and immediately think I just trapped myself.

”Call your dad and say you’re sorry,” he says. I look down at him and he senses my hesitation. ”When me and you fight, we say we’re sorry Thad. Why should it be any different when you fight with your dad?”

I don’t really lie to him. He saw the cut above my eye and asked questions, I couldn’t exactly feed him a line of bullshit.

”I’ll call him as soon as I can,” I relent quickly. ”Be good for Liz okay? She’s very much pregnant and needs you to be on your best behavior.”

”Relax man… I’ll be a frickin’ saint!” he says as he straightens his blazer and steps off the bottom step. Frankie steps away, but stops and turns back suddenly. With me still up on the step, he wraps his arms around my legs and his head goes exactly where you think it does and sends radiating pain through my nether regions.

Once he lets go, he walks across the tarmac toward Ginny. She opens her door and steps from her car, giving Frankie the biggest hug. She eyeballs me a second and I shoot her a courtesy wave. After mouthing something to Frankie, she begins to walk toward me so naturally I step down and walk toward her.

”Thaddeus hun,” she greets me warmly with a hug. ”How have you been?”

”I’ve been better to be honest, but I think things started looking up the moment we won the adoption case,” I answer her. ”How’s Dave doin’?” I ask of her dying husband, Liz’s father.

”He’s been better. Slowly getting worse so… we preparing as best we can.”

”And Liz?” I ask with a slight hesitation. ”I mean, how’s she handling everything?”

”Well the man she loves barely wants anything to do with her and her fathers dying. Not to mention she’s carrying twins for that man that wants nothing to do with her.”

Ouch.

”It’s not that I want nothing to do with her,” I begin to explain. ”I just need to be alone while I figure things out and...”

”Alone,” she scoffs. ”If this is your definition of ‘alone’ then sweetie your cornbread ain’t done in the middle.”

I’d like to say I was figuratively scratching my head, but no, I was actually scratching my head. Ginny gives a friendly wave and I turn to find Dolly at the top of the steps standing in the doorway.

”Ohhhhh! No, Ginny this isn’t like that,” I protest.

”Bless your heart honey, you owe me no explanation for your gallivantin’ ‘round the world.”

Her sass forces me to crack a smile. ”Ginny I know enough southern speak to know exactly what you’re saying. First of all, I’m only sometimes stupid and this isn’t one of those times. Secondly, this is no pleasure trip...”

”Then what is it?”

”Necessary,” I answer without answering.

”She’s due real soon, Thad,” Ginny says, her demeanor changing from the sass of a protective mother. ”What the hell are you gonna do?”

”Nothing’s changing Ginny,” I admit to her and to myself quickly. ”I love her, I do. But I just don’t see her and I together in any way in the future.”

Ginny slaps my shoulder hard and immediately, I’m reminded of the dozens of times Liz had done that.

”I see where she got that from,” I joke.

”Thad honey this isn’t about Lizzy, this is serious. Have you not thought about the children long term?” she asks, causing me a bit of confusion. ”You are a marked man. How long do you think it’ll take that outfit that’s after you to come knockin’ on my door for your children?

“Sweetheart my house just isn’t big enough for ‘round the clock security detail.”

”Can we talk about this when I get back? The plane’s about refueled and I really need to get this over with.”

Folding her arms in front of her chest, she nods then pulls me into a hug and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

”You’re a better man than this,” she states as I turn to leave. ”There’s a reason most everyone that meets you falls in love with you.”

Soaking in her sentiment for a moment. ”Saying goodbye to your daughter doesn’t make me good or bad.”

”It makes you human,” she states.

”I’ll call in the morning after we land,” I tell her, and finally disappear up the steps and back onto the plane.

...Some Hours Later...

Hours later as we’re somewhere over the Atlantic in the dead of night, Dolly and I both doze in and out of consciousness in our seats. Neither of us are particularly good at staying asleep.

”You didn’t spring for some luxury cabins for trans-oceanic trips?” she asks.

”I did,” I answer her drowsily and she backhands me in the arm. ”Oww what the fuck was that for?” I ask.

”Because I’m bouncin’ around here getting’ a stiff neck and you got bedrooms somewhere back there!”

”Bedroom,” I correct her. ”Just one.”

”You didn’t git more rooms?”

”They’re not exactly finished yet,” I tell her as a rub the sleep from my eyes.

”What the actual fuck Thad, you got me on this unfinished airliner over the fuckin’ ocean!?”

”Just the other two or three cabins aren’t furnished yet is all, so like… if you want to sleep in the bed, go on back,” I tell her and she immediately jumps out of her seat. ”Goodnight!” I call out to no response. Turning my head to look over my shoulder, Dolly stands in the doorway to the hall, leading to the rear cabins.

”You comin’ or what?”

Hesitating a moment, I get up from my seat and follow her back to the bedroom. Once inside, her and I both change into more appropriate sleeping attire and crawl into bed. Lying back with my hands clasped behind my head and staring at the ceiling and her in a fetal position nearby, I begin to quietly contemplate the short conversation I had with Virginia back in North Carolina. It isn’t that I hadn’t thought about what happens when the babies come. It’s more that I’m not sure logistically what to do about it. I could very easily buy the Tate’s a brand new much larger home in Roanoke Ridge and they’d have more room than they’d need and the security details would be less of a pain in the ass. But David doesn’t have much time and I’m sure that when he does go, he’d much rather go peacefully in the home he built for his family forty years ago.

On the other hand, I could require Liz and the children to move back to the Compound and believe me when I say that’s not something I want to do. By right, my children are royalty and as the leader of that royal family the security and safety of them takes precedence over personal wants and needs. I mean, I spend the majority of my time in New York as it is…

”Dolly?” I call out quietly as I look in her direction.

”Hmmmm?”

”What do I do about the babies safety when they’re born?”

She cranes her neck in order to look at me. ”What do you mean?”

”They can’t stay in North Carolina,” I answer. ”Dave and Ginny just don’t have the room.”

”Don’t overthink it,” she answers quickly. ”You practically have unlimited resources. Just buy her a house somewhere, hire all the nannies and help she’d need and, oh yeah, don’t forget to co-parent.”

”Shit I was definitely overthinking.”

”Thad?” she calls out as she rolls back the other direction. ”I’m cold.”

”You want me to turn down the air conditioning?”

”No.”

”I think there’s more blankets. You want me to get...”

”No,” she interrupts as she scoots herself closer to me. Looking at her so close to me, I roll in her direction and wrap my arm around her.

”Is this okay?” I ask in a hushed whisper.

”Mmmhmm.”

...The Next Morning...

This morning, upon landing at the Illuminatus airfield outside Rome, Dolly and I disembarked from Lionheart One and made our way to Hotel de la Ville to check in. Believe me, that hotel name is strictly coincidental despite its similarities to the name of the Good Doctor. After checking in and leaving our bags up in the room, Dolly and I head out on foot through Rome with nothing more than my backpack and the clothes on our back.

On our way to the Vatican, her and I stopped for breakfast at this little street cafe about a mile from the gates. I know what happened last night on the plane. Nothing, but something. Maybe? I’m not sure my vision is quite clear enough and that makes me wonder if there’s more here than meets the eye between Dolly and I. She’s truly a remarkable woman and any man (or woman for that matter) would be lucky to have her. I’m me though, and she’s her. We’re just wired differently. I very much show my emotion and feelings outwardly, she’s much more subdued, guarded.

”Dolly?” I say at the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic to clear so that we can cross.

”What’s up?”

”What’s goin’ on here?” I ask, looking down at her and for whatever reason, my heart begins to pound its way out of my chest.

”Well, right now we’re standin’ here not crossin’ the street ‘cuz yer not payin’ attention,” she says, causing me to chuckle. For a moment, I think about just letting it go, but we all know that never happens.

”That’s not what I meant,” I say as I wipe my brow.

”I know,” she replies quickly. ”I was hopin’ you’d pick up on the hint,” she says as she starts crossing the street, leaving me standing there. ”You comin’ or what?”

And I feel I’ve just joined Marf Swayson in the ‘zone.

”Yeah I’m comin’,” I say as I hurry to catch up to her. Across the street, the Swiss Guards standing near the gates of Vatican City nod at me suspiciously. They know exactly who I am and while I rarely ever come here, my presence does make them uncomfortable.

Good. It should.

”So how does all this work?” she asks me as we make our way through Saint Peters Square toward the Basilica.

Not really sure what she’s asking about, I press her for more information. ”What do you mean?”

”You beat the Church’s forces, you beat the Roman forces tryin’ to protect them,” she begins to elaborate. ”Vatican City belongs to you yet the Church remains.”

”The Catholic Church has far more in their coffers than I have in mine,” I begin to explain. ”Vows of celibacy we already know were bullshit, but their claims of being cash starved, while we knew they weren’t, none of us had any idea just how much they had hidden away.

“When I let them return to the city, I charged them exorbitant amounts of rent and they never even batted an eyelash.”

”Like… how exorbitant?”

”I could give away my entire fortune, give away my house, the place in New York, the castle in Scotland, all my cars, my bikes, my planes, the yacht, all of it… and their rent money could buy it all back. Incrementally of course, but it could be done.”

Looking up at the obelisk as we pass by, my eyes return front and center, staring dead ahead at the doors to the Basilica.

Dolly slows a second, turning her head to look behind her then hurries to catch up with me. ”Why’s it so vacant?” she asks, causing me to look at her as we reach the steps. ”I mean it’s the seat of power of Catholicism and there’s no one here.”

”They knew I was coming,” I answer as we reach the top of the steps. ”When I come in they close the city to tourism.”

Opening the door to the old church and allowing Dolly to enter first, she steps inside with me behind her. Advancing within a few feet, she stops, taking in the ancient home of hypocrisy with all of its grandeur for a moment. She eyes the ornamentation, the statues, the tapestry, taking it all in for the very first time.

”Your Grace,” calls out an elderly sounding male voice from someone, to this point entirely unseen by either of us. Dolly looks at my reddening face a moment before her and I make our way up the aisle toward the throne of Saint Peter which, as it happens, is also my throne. As we near the steps to the Altar of Clement the Eighth, the “Holy” Father himself appears several feet behind the throne, dressed in his traditional papal robes.

”Holy Father,” I greet him kindly, with perhaps a slight mocking undertone.

”And your companion?” asks the Pope with an obvious fake smile.

”Oh, my bad. This is Dolly Waters,” I introduce her.

”’Sup dude?” she says as the Pope holds out his hand, expecting her to bow and kiss his silly little ring. Clearly, he knows Dolly Waters not. She spies his weakly outstretched hand and shakes her head.

”Did you not inform Miss Waters of protocol, Your Grace?” he asks, turning his head toward me as he retrieves his hand. ”It is customary for a guest in the presence of the Holy Father to kiss his ring.”

”Protocol is whatever I say it is,” I say, shooting him a cold look. ”She’s with me and a result of that is she does whatever the hell she wants. You stick to your beliefs without wavering Father, yet expect her not to stick to hers?” I ask rhetorically as Dolly and I venture passed him. He catches up quickly.

”Inviting a guest into your home Your Grace, it is customary to respect the occupants of that home, no?” he asks as we reach the stairwell behind the throne.

We stop as I take a look around the ancient building then look at the Pope. ”Look around you, what do you see?”

”The seat of Catholicism,” he answers.

”That seat belongs to me. The building it resides in belongs to me. The city it rests in and everything in it or on it… Father, they all belong to me,” I remind him as I pull the backpack from my shoulder. ”Or have you forgotten that fact?”

”No,” he answers quickly. ”I have not forgotten.”

”Dolly isn’t a guest in your house Father. She’s a guest in mine and don’t you ever forget it again,” I warn him.

”Your Grace,” he replies with a slight bow. ”Might I ask what your purpose is here today?”

”Ask all you want Father, but don’t expect an answer,” I fire back at him quickly as Dolly and I start down the steps toward the necropolis. ”It’s a private matter and quite frankly it’s none of your damn business.”

As Dolly and I disappear down the steps and into the Necropolis, I turn to look up toward the Pope and I’m pleased to see he’s gone about his own business of defrauding millions out of both their money and simple logic. Her and I advance deeper into the ancient subterranean structure, passing by numerous ordinary dead men that at one time or another, all ascended to the Papacy...

That was a cute metaphor, Mr. Nefarious One, Thaddeus opens up with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. To have such power to… smash an action figure with your mighty boot. I mean, it’s like Ned’s… excuse me… the Nefarious One’s boot is the world and its crashing down on top of me. It’s like… Thad pauses a moment.

What its like is Ned Kaye… to be clear I don’t give a fuck what name he goes by or whatever else is going on in his life. I don’t really fucking care if he wants people to call him the Queen of god damn England. His name is Ned Kaye. It reflects that on the billing for Leap of Faith. It reflects that on his XWF roster page. It reflects that in every official capacity so if I’m supposed to kneel down to whatever Ned wants to be referred to as and be forced to pay closer attention to the XWF’s version of the Dark Avengers or the Secret Six in their evil evil Avalanche lair, that’s just not gonna happen.

One, because I don’t care. I don’t care about his sooper secret lair. I don’t care about his mental health issues. I don’t care whether he’s notorious or nefarious or any other descriptive nickname.

Two, because Ned Kaye is a cowardly little piss ant that leads a small army of even less significant yes men. Ned Kaye has been the professional wrestling version of Mr. Pibb his entire career. Kind of okay in a pinch, but just didn’t get all the way to the finish line and earn that doctorate. Yet because now he’s got his sooper evil sooper group and sooper duper metaphorical dick sicked by that group of numbskulls, we’re all supposed to believe that Ned Kaye the Mediocre has somehow found the key to true, sustained success in the XWF. I mean, this is the same guy that has never really advanced past the middle of the pack and somehow, because now he’s Nefarious, we’re all supposed to believe that his other ball has finally dropped and he’s ready for the big leagues. I already told him this is his chance to prove he’s made it to the big leagues and prove that he can beat the real big timers. All he has to do is beat me and his star is infinitely brighter, but you needn’t worry because he won’t.

He’s a moderately talented blowhard that needs his way over inflated ego to grow even more over inflated. You know what happens though when you fill something up just a little too much and you start applying pressure? It bursts and collapses into nothing and that’s what’s gonna happen at Leap of Faith.

The man has been calling me a boy. A child. A second grader. A kindergarten-level threat. As if attempting to insult my intelligence is some major key to victory. Insult are fine Ned, but you gotta get better at them. Since you brought it up though, let me ask you something.

If I’m so stupid, and so intellectually inferior to you, then why was I so easily able to manipulate things last Warfare? Why was I so easily able to move all the chess pieces on the board exactly where I wanted them in order to figuratively kick your teeth down your throat? The question is easy and the answers are just as simple. Not only am I a hell of a lot smarter than you think I am, but you’re also not as clever as you think you are. I’m a master tactician and since you’re entirely unaware of anything but yourself, I’ve been manipulating this whole thing since the very beginning to put you in the position you are in order to get exactly what I want from you.

Let’s look at the evidence, shall we?

April 7th Warfare in L.A.

I wasn’t physically present on that show because I was fulfilling some dumb court order shit, but Paul Heyman was there in my stead challenging him on my behalf. That really is an insult to anyone isn’t it? Sending someone else entirely to issue a challenge. At that point, I’m just setting the stage and watching Ned do exactly what I thought he’d do: give a non-answer to a legitimate challenge while at the same time… knowing I’m already under his skin.

April 21st in Portland.

I’m in attendance that night but nobody knows that yet. I send Paul out to do what he does best and that’s get a crowd all worked up while grating on the nerves of my potential opponent: this case, Ned Kaye. Once again, as predicted, the Nefarious One, the great and powerful Ned Kaye walks his sorry ass to the ring and puffs out his chest because he’s face to face with a non-fighting manager. Ned does exactly what I thought he’d do and again respond to the challenge, but this time adding the little spice to the response that I needed him to… requiring my presence in order to address the challenge.

Enter your Lionheart where I make that challenge in person just as I predicted Ned would require. He goes on to call me a jobber and I made a mental note of that at the time. That’s coming from a guy that has fewer wins than I do, more losses than I do, fewer major championships than I do, fewer main events than I’ve had. He even mentioned me “losing on a grand stage” and let me tell ya somethin’ brother! When it comes to grand stages since my triumphant return at last years Leap of Faith? I’m a hell of a lot more successful than not. TK and the TV title at Leap of Faith? Check. Chris Page, Mastermind and Chris Chaos at Relentless? Check, check and check. Cataclysm and the tag straps? The High Stakes battle royal and the Universal title? Check and Check. In case math is hard, that’s six consecutive wins and three major championships including the biggest prize in just three “grand stages.”

Oh.

Maybe he was talking about 2021’s grand stages? Okay I’ll concede that, I haven’t had the fortunes spinning my way but that changes at this years Leap of Faith where Thaddeus Duke’s climb back up the mountain to the Universal title begins anew while Ned Kaye stays somewhere in the middle because its just far too hard to go the rest of the way and he’s neither had the dedication nor the skill level to get any higher than he is now.

That’s the difference between him and I. I strive to get better and better and when I fall down the mountain, I work my ass off to go back up. Ned stays exactly where he’s at because he knows this is as good as it gets for him.

I ran off topic.

Back to Warfare… he said his entourage was bigger than mine like that means anything. I mean, I later proved that wasn’t the case but more on that in just a little bit. Bigger though, Thad shakes his head and shoots a smile. Isn’t always better. I’d line up Continuum against Avalanche a thousand times and in each of those times, Continuum wins. I mean any number of those matches could have a cardboard cutout of Doc as partner and I still feel damn good about our chances.

That night on my way to the ring for my anticipated Ned Kaye confrontation, I knew what was coming and I told Corey to keep his ass in the back and let it happen. I mean, I’ve had my ass kicked by bigger and better and over the years I’ve been got by fewer and lesser. Corey didn’t listen in the end, but that’s okay. If he and were in opposite positions, I’d have done the same thing.

I kinda like it rough though, Ned. Thanks for the exhilarating experience.

May 5th Warfare in Seattle.

I lobbied to put the match on first because I knew when Corey was showing up. I knew he was behind and I wanted no excuses when I beat EXP by myself. Remember what I said about bigger not always being better? That’s exactly what I meant. The match was won early on but Dean Rose had other ideas… as predicted, Avalanche was gonna prolong the match in order to dish out more Thaddeus Duke punishment and as I already said, I like it rough.

Choke me Neddy.

See, Ned can say that was his plan all along, to cost his own team the match giving me the Hart title match on a silver platter and maybe it was. The fact is though, I knew all I had to do is keep fighting. Ain’t a damn one of them good enough to keep the Lionheart down so all I had to do was just keep kicking out and I knew frustration would set in sooner or later.

The end result is irrelevant because it was always going to be that way. Whether Ned wanted me to have the official victory or not matters not because either I was gonna win outright, or I was gonna frustrate EXP to the point they were gonna lose it all on their own.

And the aforementioned May 19th Warfare where I put all the pieces exactly where I wanted them to get one clean unobstructed shot at Ned Kaye? All of it, from tip to tail from April 7th all the way to May 19th crafted by me in order to get Ned Kaye exactly where I want him. In a match where there can be no interference. In a match where its just he and I for the first, and after I’m done with him he’ll never want another piece of me again, so the only time ever.

Almost forgot… bigger entourage? Thad scoffs. That was just a few soldiers. Say what you want about bringing my military along for the ride but c’mon! If I’m gonna use my best friend as a pawn, and he was aware and willing of what he was getting into, I sure as shit was gonna have him protected.

By the way Ned, if you’re gonna talk and talk until I’m bored of listening, you might want to make some of it mean something instead of just talking to hear yourself talk.

Ned Kaye will have his chance to prove he’s more than what he’s always been but anytime Ned has been put in the position to take the next step, he’s always tripped over his own two feet and that’s already what you’re seeing and it’s only the promo stage of our affair. At Leap of Faith I’m going to teach Ned Kaye first hand what it means to be the best. And since he’s so into fairy tales, like him thinking he’s good enough to conquer the Conqueror, I’m going to meticulously take him apart piece by little piece until all Avalanche’s horses and all Avalanche’s men can’t put Ned back together again.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Missing Pieces: Part 1 - RP #2
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