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+--- Thread: Trust Issues: RP #4 (/showthread.php?tid=26175)
Trust Issues: RP #4 - Thaddeus Duke - 01-15-2017
Sunday, December 25, 2016 | 12:07 AM Local Time | The Illuminatus Compound | Old Saybrook, Connecticut
It is safe to say that as a person grows up, the older they get, the more they lose people close to them. Death has a way of humanizing even the most inhuman of us. Encountering the death of someone close rips away the shield. It leaves you vulnerable. You’re so distraught with emotion and discovering what it is that you truly lost that it makes it easy to have clouded judgment. It makes it easy to make irrational decisions.
For twenty years Sebastian Duke and Jacob Anderson were the best of friends. Jacob was small in comparison to Sebastian. The XWF’s former King of Darkness stood six feet two inches as a twelve year old. In contrast, Jacob was all of five feet seven inches the day he left this Earth. Jacob was a quiet boy, one easily harassed and bullied by those his own age that saw Jacob as an easy target.
And he was an easy target up until Father Asmodeus moved his Illuminatus headquarters from the small basement of a house in a small town outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to the Illuminatus Compound in Old Saybrook, Connecticut.
When 12 year old Sebastian Duke entered the very same private school that Jacob attended, even then, he had the power of deduction and observation. He could tell the boy was quiet. He could tell the boy didn’t have any friends. He saw the bullies pick on him even in class any time an instructor turned their back. Some instructors saw it in front of their faces and did nothing. Sebastian himself initially ignored it, choosing only to observe.
That was until one day, several months in, after the last bell and the students were all hurrying to get home and the instructors were hiding in the classrooms after dealing with preteens and teens all day. This one boy, tall by a 12 year olds standards, but shorter than Sebastian by several inches is shoving Jacob into a locker. Not stuffing, shoving. With each shove, Jake’s head smacks off the locker. Not satisfied, the bully grabs Jake by his blond hair and starts ramming his head into the locker over and over.
Finally, the future Illuminatus King has seen enough. The bullies friends stand nearby, watching and laughing, yelling obscenities at Jacob. Sebastian was tall and lean. Already powerful at his young age, no doubt a product of the evil genius laboratory of his father. The young Sebastian moves in, tossing his backpack to the floor. With both hands, he rips two of the bullies buddies from where the stand, pulling them backward with force by their shirt collars, sending them down to the floor and sliding into other students. Young Sebastian grabs the bully by his hair and forces his head into the locker hard enough to dent it. The bullies friends scatter and the bully himself lies on the floor with tears in his eyes and clutching his aching skull.
”You didn’t have to do that,” Jacob says to his new protector.
”I’ve watched it long enough. I should have done it sooner,” replies 12 year old Sebastian Duke.
”Thank you though. None of this would happen if they’d let my brother back in here.”
”Where’s he?”
”Lucas was expelled for beating up my bullies.”
”You won’t be bullied anymore.”
Sebastian Duke snaps out of his memory. His eyes red and watery as he remembers his friend. It’s difficult to not feel anger and hatred for the woman resting behind the door he’s staring at. Without knocking, he enters. Ariana Valentina is fast asleep in her bed. Ironically, at one time this was Jacob’s room. It crushes his soul knowing that Jake’s killer now sleeps in his old bed.
”Wake up,” the King demands loudly, but not yelling.
Ariana stirs beneath her blankets, hardly aware of who’s in her room. The King flicks on the overhead light via a switch on the wall within his reach. Ariana rubs her eyes and looks at the King. Her eyes grow wide and she jumps from her bed and kneels at his feet.
”Your Highness,” she says while in her kneel, not really knowing what the courtesy is but figuring it was close enough.
”Never mind that. On your feet,” he orders. She follows explicitly. Ariana looks slightly to her right at the doorway and gives a nice smile at Thaddeus leaning against the door jam. The King turns his head to see his boy, then back at Ariana. ”My son tells me you were involved in the hit on us in Germany.”
”He speaks the truth,” she replies, knowing her life has never been in this grave danger before.
”Why should I trust you?
“Perhaps even more importantly, how can I trust you?”
”Your Highness, I know its hard...”
”No, you don’t have any idea what its like. You have no idea how hard it is to first of all, know you killed my best friend and two, that you’re SLEEPING IN HIS FUCKING BED!” the King turns to shouting. His anger and hurt is starting to win out.
The Prince’s eyes roll back in his head as he ‘mother fucks’ himself. When he made up Ariana’s sleeping arrangements, he didn’t know she was the trigger woman behind Jake’s passing and neither did he know that this was indeed Jake’s bedroom.
”I had no idea,” she states.
”Father, I’m sorry. I had no idea this was his room,” Thaddeus states from the door way.
The King doesn’t even look at him. In fact, he pretty much ignores his sons presence at this point. ”How can I trust you?”
”I don’t know that you can, sir,” she begins. ”But I have every intention of trying to fully earn your trust. I know your friends death has been hard on you, Prince Thaddeus let on as much. But sir, you must realize I was only doing my job. My job description then is not the same as it is now,” she concludes.
”And what is your job description?” he asks rather annoyed.
”To build an alliance with your Illuminatus in order to eliminate the threat posed by the Islamic State.”
”How do you expect me to believe that?”
”I don’t,” she answers quickly.
”So then how can I allow you to work with my son? My ONLY son?” he emphasizes.
”You are under no obligation to allow it.
“The Pope instructed me personally that I’d likely be pressed by your people about my past, what I’ve done. I was instructed to be truthful and forthcoming. I was encouraged to allow the truth behind the plot in Germany to become known by you.”
The King says nothing.
”The Pope believes that only through honesty can true peace be achieved. He believes that this budding alliance in imperative to the survival of the Catholic Church. The Illuminatus has been the only successful challenger to the throne of Saint Peter. They don’t like it, but they respect it.
“Your Highness, the Pope believes, and so do those in power around him, that being allied with the Illuminatus is a far better option than being enemies. The Church is vulnerable. They know that. They know you know that. Further, they know that due to their splintered existence, you could crush them at any time of your choosing. The survival of the Church is in your hands, King Sebastian.
“You may choose to have faith in whatever or whomever your Higher Power is, and begin to repair the damage caused by centuries of war between the Church and the Illuminatus.
“Or you can crush them. End them once and for all.
“They say everyone has price, right? Pay me more than the Church pays, and I’d fight on your side if that’s the way you want to go. As I told the Prince, I’m not Catholic. Other than finances, I have no inclination whatsoever to see it thrive again, or see it blown to bits,” she finally concludes.
”Dad?” Thaddeus interrupts the silence befallen over the room. His father looks at him. ”We need this alliance. We have to act on the Islamic State and you and I both know we can’t do it by ourselves. Not at this time.”
”Are you saying that because its the truth? Or are you saying that because you want me to spare the life of this woman who you think is gorgeous?”
Thaddeus sighs, mostly because his father just outed his affection for the woman in their presence. ”We have to respond. Sooner rather than later. With the Church by our sides, peace will win. Hate will lose. Without them, it is certainly plausible that the Illuminatus could be destroyed.”
”Sir,” Ariana begins as Sebastian returns his attention to her. ”The attack on your jets this time last year was a last ditch effort. They could have killed Prince Thaddeus when he walked into Saint Peter’s Square and met the Pope face to face. They chose not to act on the inclination because they were wise enough to realize threats existed other than the Illuminatus.
“They need your forces.
“They need your help.
“They knew it then.”
”If they wanted my father and I dead, and they tried that night, why let Thaddeus live?”
”He’s more rational. They felt if Prince Thaddeus ascended to the throne with you and Father Asmodeus out of the way, peace was easier path. A working relationship was achievable,” she explains.
”Yet Thaddeus was a target in Germany.”
”That was a different time. At that point, the war was anyones game. It was still winnable for the Church back then.”
Sebastian runs his right hand over his forehead and through his hair, resigned to thought. ”Okay, I’ll allow this alliance to grow. But I have to warn you,” the King begins.
”I’m listening, sir.”
”If I so much as think that this is a plot to kill my son or me, I can guarantee you that there isn’t a corner of this Earth where you or the Pope would be safe. I’m very good at finding those that don’t want to be found.
“I will find you both.
“And I will kill you.
“Both of you will swing from the gallows in Saint Peter’s Square for all those Catholic bleeding hearts to see.
“Know that,” the King emphasizes, then takes his leave.
”Liam Neeson is his hero,” Thaddeus jokes, still leaning against the door jam.
Ariana laughs pleasantly. ”You think I’m gorgeous?”
”I wish he hadn’t said that. I’m a bit embarrassed,” says Thaddeus with a sheepish grin and slightly red faced.
”Don’t be.”
”Good night.”
”Good night Thaddeus.”
Thaddeus closes the door, thinking about how his name sounded coming from her voice. He liked that sound.
...PRESENT DAY...
If one does not aspire to be the very best, or aspire to at least be the top dog among the current crop of XWF stars, then one is in the wrong business. Stating ones desire to be champion is in fact, over stated. I’ve fallen into that trap myself and all of us are guilty of it. Every single one of us.
What some may perceive as whining, is actually more pointing out facts, than anything. Contrary to Micheal Graves opinion, I don’t actually care where I am on the card. Whether I’m jerking the curtain, somewhere in the middle, or at the top, it doesn’t actually make any difference to me. The fact is that I’m going to go out there and give 110% regardless. Thaddeus Duke will steal the show no matter what. While it is true that I point out the fact that I’m not given main event slots while habitual losers like that cunt Reno are regularly at or near the top of the card, one must remember that I’m not complaining about where I’m at so much as pointing out that there are others far less deserving.
Like Gabe Reno.
I can assure you, Graves. You and I are nothing alike. One of us has talent and a future. The other one is you.
Graves has already lost this match before it has even begun. He doubts himself and fears the level of talent in todays Xtreme Wrestling Federation compared to the time a decade ago when he was relevant. Once self doubt and fear creep in, it’s difficult to shake that. It’s difficult to shrug that off in order to stand up and be counted.
It does, however take some real testicular fortitude to admit fear and doubt. For that, my figurative hat is tipped to the Dark Worrier.
Yes.
Worrier.
And he should be worried. It’s not so much, Graves, that you’re going to look like a joke, because you already are a joke. I don’t care what you did or did not win ten years ago. It’s 2017, not 2007. You drove off a man that shared your name but called himself the Franchise. That is your one hit wonder in the new era of the XWF.
And let’s be real. It was me that drove him off. I crushed him and he never released one promo for his match with you. He was already broken and shattered when you got to him. All you did, was sweep the pieces that I shattered, right into the trash. Where you both belong.
Micheal Graves says for me to take him to his limits and beat him if I can. Mike, I have news for you, I will take you beyond your limits. I will defeat you because that’s what I do. I realize you’re disappointed that I’ve not addressed you more often and you think that I’m taking you lightly. The fact is, I am a very busy man and patience is a virtue. Believe me when I tell you Graves, I never take any opponent lightly. Whether they’re great like Doc, or minor bumps in the road like you and Gabe Reno. I take it all seriously.
See, I wasn’t going to tell you, but I must. I have to tell you that you fell right into my trap. By remaining silent, it has frustrated you to no end. Once a man is frustrated, he’s prone to tripping over himself and stumbling, and generally just making mistakes. It’s similar to blitzing a quarterback in football. Pressure him and frustrate him, and he makes mistakes. Maybe he throws into double coverage and that throws goes the other way for six points to the wrong side. Perhaps not as big a mistake as Mark Sanchez and his famous butt fumble, but still, mistakes nonetheless.
While I wasn’t releasing promos I monitored yours. I watched you talk about your doubts and your fears. I watched you board the ship to the frozen nothingness that is Antarctica. I watched it all.
Then I released a promo and didn’t utter a single word about you. That was the real bait.
You bit.
I knew I had you then.
Hook.
Line.
And sinker.
There you are, tripping over yourself, spewing nonsense. You are a shell of a man. Easily manipulated, Graves. I want you to realize that I’ve actually done you a service here. At least now your not telling the world how much you respect and admire me. Well, actually you are, but now you’re saying it in an angry voice and I love it.
Rather than entering the match with fear and doubt, now you can at least add a little anger with a touch of frustration. That’s precisely the fire I wanted from you Micheal Graves. To be the best you have to act like you’re the best. You have to feel like you’re the best. You have to exude confidence. We’ll work on that last part. You’re still not quite confident yet, but we still have a few days.
I have ignited the fire that was all but gone in Micheal Graves and he should be thanking me. At least now, Graves will be part of the best match on Warfare. He’s still not going to win, but like I did when I lost to Doc and entered the rankings, when Graves loses to me, he’ll also climb in the rankings.
We’re going to steal the show, Graves. And you only have me to thank for it.
I don’t really give a shit who offered to help you, because it would not have mattered. You’ll never face anyone with more fight than I have. Someone helping you actually would be beneficial to me, because when I win on Warfare, I’d have dispatched of your help and you and still went to victory. Tell me Graves, if that happened, how would that make you look? So be honest with yourself. You didn’t turn down the offer because you want to do it on your own. You turned it down because when you lose, you’d rather it be without me dispatching your help so you don’t look bad.
God.
Satan.
Neither of them will stop my victory march. If they can’t stop me, how to you suppose that you can?
Being a victor in professional wrestling is a bit more than hollow words like “I’m gonna break your bones and stuff” or “I’m gonna drink your blood” or “I’m gonna set you on fire and push you in the cold water how you like that bitch?”
Well, I assume if you set me on fire, the cold water would certainly help my case, but by all means, do those things. None of it matters because you’re not going to win. Not against me. Don’t blame me for suckering you into discontent. Your renewed drive and determination will only carry you so far, Mike. It’ll get you some victories, Graves. But not this week. Not against me.
Thaddeus Duke.
Calm.
Cool.
Collected.
The hottest new attraction in the XWF.
The savior of Michael Graves floundering career.
Ever victorious.