Lost: RP #2 - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum: Warfare Boards (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=6) +--- Forum: Warfare RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=12) +--- Thread: Lost: RP #2 (/showthread.php?tid=40130)

Lost: RP #2 - Thaddeus Duke - 03-13-2021 Old Saybrook Police Department || Old Saybrook, Connecticut || 11:24 AM I haven’t uttered a single word in 24 hours. When the guards gave me food or something to drink, I’d barely acknowledge their existence with a look, let alone anything verbal. When they’d make their rounds, again, the same thing. I have been humbled and humiliated beyond belief and to put the icing on the cake, the judge saw fit to take Frankie from the only place he’s felt comfortable and loved and safe, and put him with strangers that he doesn’t know. Do what you want to me, say what you want to me… but putting a child through hell to make a point? Disgusting and unforgivable. ”Thaddeus Duke,” says the on duty officer and I look in his direction from my position lying on the bunk. He’s a rather large black man, not that that really matters. ”Time’s up. You’re free to go.” Staying put for the moment, the officer stares at me as he unlocks the cell door. ”This might be the first time I’ve unlocked one of these doors and the person inside didn’t want to bolt,” he says with a smile. Obviously he’s trying to make a joke, but I’m really not in a joking mood. Hesitantly I stand from the bunk and run my fingers through my disheveled hair before exiting the cell. The officer leads me down the hallway to booking, where he and I first met a day ago. ”You ain’t in the talkin’ mood,” he says quietly as we walk. ”I get it man. That was some shit Lightoller pulled. He throws the book at anyone he can, justifiable or not.” We round a corner and exit into the waiting area at booking. With a firm but gentle hand, he grabs the nape of my neck as we reach the desk. ”I was in the courtroom man,” he says as the officer behind the desk grabs a lock box from the shelf behind him and opens it up in front of me. ”I know what you’re capable of. You got a famous name and a famous upbringing but I’d advise you,” he says with a shake of his head. ”Don’t do what you’re thinkin’ of doin’.” Ignoring him for the time being, I grab my watch and secure it to my wrist, before grabbing my phone, my wallet and my shoes. Liz must’ve grabbed everything else before she left yesterday. Powering my phone on and laying it on the counter, I toss my shoes to the floor and start to put them on. 71 missed calls. 4 from Dolly. A few others. 63 from Corey. Gotta love him, I think to myself while cracking the slightest smile. ”Hey man,” the officer stops me as I start to head for the door. ”I know it’s tough but… just keep your head on straight okay?” he advises with an outstretched hand. Still saying nothing, I just nod in his direction and shake his hand before exiting the police station. For what it’s worth, his unsought advice does mean something to me. Police all over the world get a bad rap from the many bad ones and the willingness from their unions to protect their own almost by any means necessary really does overshadow the good things done by good cops. To be honest, I can kind of relate. Through the course of my life I’ve done some downright horrible things at most and very questionable things at the least. In the eyes of many, those things tend to overshadow the good things that I do. Maybe I should just be the egotist people seem to think I am and make sure all my good deeds are plastered all over the newspapers and Twitter. It isn’t praise I seek. I know I do good and I know I do bad. Across the street, Lincoln Tritter rests his big ass on the hood of my quarter million dollar Audi. I ought to bust his skull for that. ”How was your night?” Tritter asks as he hands me my keys. I don’t say anything, instead I just take the keys and pop into the drivers seat. ”Make anyone your bitch in there?” Tritter asks as he closes his door. Firing the engine, I just feel its rumble beneath me for a few seconds while ignoring Lincoln’s attempt at humor and putting the car in reverse as I back out. Slamming the German built super car into first gear, she spins a little tire as I smash the gas pedal. ”That Smith kid,” Tritter begins, causing me to stare in his direction. He’s well aware that I don’t like it when people disrespect people I love and refusing to use a persons given name when you’re aware of what it is, is just blatant disrespect. ”You might want to call him,” Tritter says. ”He called your phone 48 times the last I checked. Not sure why, but he likes you,” he says a little facetiously. Sometimes… I wonder why myself. Often when it’s quiet, I wonder to myself when he’ll start to listen to the doubters and the haters and his friend Alias. Whatever the reason, Alias has had a boner for hating me since his arrival in the XWF. His opinion doesn’t bother me so much, but he thinks I’m evil. I don’t typically pay much attention to his insinuations, but lately… I really can’t help but think that maybe he’s right, at least on some level. Between the seductive flirtation from Lycana that… I’m enjoying, my refusal to show mercy to Ares Project survivors in Berlin, to D’Ville somehow seeing an evil within me that he wants to draw out, to my hair trigger temper that sees me lash out… like the police in New Mexico, again the destruction of survivors in Berlin, Judge Lightoller, and I can’t even tell you how many times I beat the shit out of Alister Henry. Whatever else he is, he’s still a man in his 60’s. Not really a fair fight. Pulling into the drive way, I still haven’t broken my silence. To be honest, I don’t know why it is exactly that I’m not saying anything. I just have this pent up frustration, this hurt and this anger and I’m afraid that when I do open my mouth it’s not gonna go well for anyone. Myself included. ”I’ll have you a plan together in a day or so,” Tritter says as we walk up the steps toward the front doors of the big house. I only nod and slap him on the shoulder. Inside the house I’m greeted as soon as I walk in by Elizabeth. Uncharacteristically, I give her the cold shoulder and keep walking. ”Baby,” she says as I walk by her. Hesitantly I stop and turn to face her. ”It’ll be okay,” she says as she approaches me. Just as she nears me I turn and head toward the stairs. ”He’s been giving me the cold shoulder for weeks,” Jim says to her as he approaches. ”I don’t know what’s going on with him Liz. But it’s nothing good for anyone.” ”Hun, Percy Fletcher is coming by tomorrow,” she says as I disappear up the steps toward the residence. He’s not at all the person I want to see. It was supposed to be open and shut. Frankie should be here with me, wearing my last name. I worry about a lot of things and one of those things were my arrest records and the perception of violent tendencies. Looks are deceiving. Despite appearances, I don’t actually like to get violent. Yet I do it far too often. Inside the residence, I stop by Frankie’s now unoccupied bedroom and step inside. Upon the walls are his favorite pictures from his time he’s spent on the road with me. He and James Raven, he and Robbie Bourbon. Uncle Theo. Corey Smith. Dolly. D’Ville. And yeah, even he and Chris Page. So many others. For awhile there, if I was at a show, so was Frankie. His personality afforded him the ability to make friends very easily and there’s a lot of people inside the halls of the XWF that just love that fucking kid. He’s good, he’s kind, he’s decent, he’s… missed terribly… and deserves nothing of what was handed to him by that fucking judge. He thought he was punishing me, and he is, but collateral damage is a thing and Frankie suffers too. Standing in his doorway, Mufasa saunters up to me and leans his head against my leg. He too, misses his boy. The next day, I still haven’t opened my mouth to anyone. Two days now and I haven’t uttered a single word, not even when I’m alone. Mainly I’ve been reclusive, avoiding human contact from everyone and I still haven’t returned neither Corey nor Dolly’s phone calls. Those that have come in since I was released, I’ve just sent to voicemail. I don’t really know how to explain what it is that’s going on and I just know they’re going to ask me questions that either I can’t answer or that I’m not willing to discuss yet. However, they do undoubtedly deserve some kind of response from me. Don’t get me wrong, I love that they care. I’m overwhelmed internally that they’re worried about me yet at the same time, I’m embarrassed that they feel the need to do so. It’s usually me that’s there for others, not the other way around. Despite the plethora of faults in my character, they still love me. I don’t know why, but they do. In the garage today I decided to get Frankie’s dirt bike ready for spring. We were supposed to work on it together today so that he could learn how to maintain things before they break. I taught myself because my Dad is a gear head but he couldn’t be bothered by, you know, doing Dad stuff. With Frankie, I didn’t want him to go through that sort of thing. I make it a point to do fatherly things with him, to do things and teach him things like a good father would do with their son. Things that don’t just come natural, like knotting a fishing hook or how to cast the line, or routine maintenance on his dirt bike, or trying to steer him back on course when he’s a little sideways. Ratcheting the bolt off of the air filter cover, I’m interrupted by Elizabeth. ”Baby,” she says from the doorway and I stop ratcheting and look in her direction. ”Percy is in your office.” Finishing off the bolt I set it in a little magnetic dish sitting on the garage floor beside me and lay the cover beside it. Laying the ratchet down near the motorcycle, I scramble to my feet and head into the house, blowing by Liz and paying her no attention as I navigate my way through the halls toward my “office.” Stepping inside, Percy Fletcher with his briefcase in hand, stands and looks around just like Senator Reed did, at the different things from my life adorning its walls. ”Thaddeus,” he says as I arrive and he holds out his hand. In response to that I just hold up my greasy palms and he quickly retracts his friendly gesture. ”I was in to see Frankie before I came here. I thought you might want to know he’s not saying anything to anyone. “Not even me.” Maybe for the first time I’m recognizing that the boy might be mentally wired more like me than I realized previously. He too internalizes his hurt and anger. He too gets ghostly quiet. He too has a tendency to lash out aggressively. When… if... I get him home… maybe we can work on those things together. ”He’s fine though Thaddeus, I promise you that.” Again, I say nothing and it makes him uncomfortable. ”For not sharing any blood, you and him are a lot alike,” he says, attempting to make a joke. ”So here’s the plan...” ”You failed me,” I say to him quietly causing him to stop in his tracks. ”You failed me Percy, and more importantly you failed him. It wasn’t supposed to go down like that and you told me those records wouldn’t have any bearing on this case.” ”Believe me, I...” ”I think its best if I found new representation,” I say to him as I turn and head toward the door, attempting to end this meeting quickly. Fletcher scoffs as if what I just said was incredibly irrational. ”Thaddeus, at the risk of sounding arrogant,” he prefaces. ”I’m the best probate attorney in the state of Connecticut.” Stopping in the doorway, I turn to face him. ”I don’t doubt that Percy,” I begin. ”Thing is, being the best attorney in Connecticut is like being a small town 10.” He looks at me with a befuddled look on his face. ”You take that girl to the big city and she’s not a ten anymore. Probably a five, maybe a six. Do I look like I’m bangin’ fives and sixes Fletch?” I ask of him. “Nah man, this stuff is way too important. I’m gonna find me a big city ten. “I thank you for your services Percy, but they’re no longer needed.” ”Baby!” Liz pleads from just outside my office door. Again, I ignore her and keep on walking. ”It’s not his fault!” ”You’re right,” I call out as I round the corner heading back toward the garage. ”It’s mine!” While I broke my silence yesterday, people are still walking on eggshells around me. They avoid me if they can and only approach me if they absolutely must. I don’t like it. I don’t like the rage within being so noticeable. I don’t like the rage being present at all. Nevertheless it persists. Until I get this case put to bed, I don’t foresee the anger going away. Of course, it leads me to think… what if Frankie never gets to come home again? ”Baby please sit and talk with me,” Liz pleads from the doorway of the bathroom as I start on my Windsor knot. Looking at her momentarily in the reflection of the mirror, I inhale a deep sigh. ”There’s nothing to talk about,” I say to her quietly. ”I don’t like you like this,” she says as she approaches me and leans her head on my shoulder. I shrug her off and in response, she gives me a cold stare. ”Maybe get used to it,” I say as I finish up on my tie and grab my jacket from the hanger on the wall behind me. ”Let’s talk about you,” she says with increasing agitation evident in her voice. ”Or Frankie, or us. Whatever you want to talk about baby, just let it out.” ”You wanna talk?” I ask of her, increasing my volume a few octaves. ”Then let’s talk about you packing your shit and going home.” She looks at me incredulously and a big part of me wonders why the hell I just said that. ”You can’t even be serious right now,” she says as she walks out of view into the bedroom. ”You’ll leave me eventually too, just like all the rest,” I call back at her as I exit the bathroom. ”What the hell are you even talking about?” she asks as she grabs the lapels of my jacket. ”My mother, my father,” I begin as I remove her hands from me and start counting on my fingers. ”My grandfather, Frankie, Curtis, Jim… Dolly...” ”Thad!?” she pleads. ”Everyone finds a way out of my life eventually. Let’s save the drama then Liz, go home. Your father’s dying as it is and you should be there with them, not staying here and allowing me to find new and exciting ways to hurt you and make you hate me.” ”Your mother,” she begins to push back. ”She died, Thad! So did your grandfather! And Curtis! Frankie was taken away from me just as much as he was from you! Dolly? Waters? “Seriously Thad!? You two were just kids in a grown up world, she didn’t leave you Thad! She went to find Dolly! And how the fuck did Jim leave you? He’s literally right downstairs.” ”He has cancer and he doesn’t know that I know.” Since the moment I learned of Jim’s fate, this is the first I’ve acknowledged it out loud. ”He’ll be dead in less than a year.” She sighs and sits the edge of our bed. ”So your solution to feeling abandoned by the people you love is to push away more people that you love and fucking love you back,” she muses aloud to herself. ”This is the way it has to be,” I say as I start for the door. ”Take the time you need, whatever money you need and just go home Liz. I love you. I’m sorry, but I have to figure out how to fix me before I ruin more lives.” ”I’m carrying your children you son of a bitch!” she cries out as she grabs a table lamp and chucks it at my head. Taking a quick step back, the lamp crashes into the corner of the doorway. ”Is that somehow gonna change just because you’re in North Carolina and I’m not?” I ask her coldly. She doesn’t answer and I didn’t expect her to. ”That’s what I thought,” I conclude as I exit the door into the hall. ”Thaddeus!?” she pleads as she chases after me. ”Where are you going?” ”New York,” I answer indifferently. ”Stay,” she pleads with tears in her eyes. ”Please baby, we can work this out!” ”Elizabeth,” I say as she continues to chase after me down the stairs. ”That’s what you’re not understanding. There’s nothing to work out until I can figure out what the hell is missing inside me.” ”This isn’t just about Frankie?” Initially I ignore her and keep descending. ”Stop!” she shrieks as I reach the bottom of the steps and exit into the main hallway. Reluctantly, I stop and allow her to catch up and face me. ”This was never just about Frankie,” I admit quietly. ”There’s a lot of noise in my head, there’s something missing in my soul and I have to figure out what that is, Lizzy.” ”I’m not leaving you,” she says as she throws her arms around me and leans her head on my chest. ”You don’t have a choice,” I reply quietly. ”My life is a god damn never ending roller coaster and you need to stop trying to pick up pieces I’m dropping and go be with your parents. Your dad doesn’t have a lot of time left and Liz… I have to figure out how to keep myself together on my own. “Go to North Carolina. “Go be with Ginny and Dave. “I’ll call in a few days.” She quietly sobs into my chest. What started out as me regretting saying something, navigated its way to not only doubling down on it, but going all in. I don’t know what will happen a month from now. Six months. A year. What I do know is that at this point in time, before my children are born, before Frankie gets to come home, I have some real soul searching to do. If Elizabeth is right and Dolly didn’t leave me but went to find Dolly, then maybe that’s what I need to do... find Thaddeus. I’ve been sitting and waiting, hoping that when Shawn Wylde had the balls to open his mouth, that he’d have shown improvement in his mic skills in the two months since we’ve crossed paths. Clearly… he has not. The man apparently thinks that as long as you say something that it’s all you need to make the suits smile since he’s promoting the match. The entire point of promoting a match Shawn, is generating interest. Make the fans want to tune into your match and you haven’t done that. You get the benefit of my star power standing opposite you so all is not lost my friend. You’re welcome. Millions stream whatever show I’m on because I’m on it. That’s not even ego, and it isn’t arrogance, it’s just the honest truth of the matter. But you’re right Shawn, the results will be different than it was two months ago in that tag match. There is no Chris Page and there is no Finn Kuhn so I guess we’ll just have to settle for me beating you like a red headed step child. Does it concern you Shawn, where my match is placed on the card? It shouldn’t concern you at all because it doesn’t and hasn’t ever concerned me. Whether I’m the last match or the first, the only thing that matters is that I’m there, that I’m on the card because Shawn, wherever my match is placed it’ll be the best match on the card because that is what I do. What are you insinuating with Lycana and myself? She is what she is and apparently likes my face or something… not that I blame her. It is a nice face. Whatever her and I are or aren’t, do and do not, ceases to be of any concern to you or anyone else. It’s interesting though, if you think about it. You could be on camera talking about how good you are and how you’re gonna make an example out of Thaddeus Duke, instead… all you want to talk about is where I’m at on the card and other things that don’t even really involve this match, like Paul Heyman and Lycana. Mentality difference. Do tell me though, what could Romeo really offer me that either Heyman can’t offer me or that I don’t already have? I mean you’re talking about rented castles as if that’s supposed to impress me. I have an ancient castle in Scotland. Got it on the cheap too. Turns out those mother fu… those buggers are pretty hard to heat. Does he charter you planes? I have a fleet of 747’s, a couple private jets and not to mention an entire Air Force. What about limousines? Got those too, and they’re of the heavily armored blast proof variety. Expensive cars? Champagne? Do you get to hob nob with the rich and famous? Got ‘em. Drank it. And I am rich and famous. What about acting roles? Does he get you those? Yep, got those too. See, that’s where our mentality differs Shawn. You think a manager is just there to give you things and keep you smiling and happy. What managers do for me is show me things that aren’t, and then tell me why they aren’t. That’s wrestling management. That’s why, for better or worse, my guy is my guy, and your guy is your guy. Let’s not beat around the bush. I don’t want you thinking you somehow have a snowballs chance in hell in coming out victorious on Warfare. It will be a great match Shawn, you got the part right. And it’ll be so, because I’m not going to beat you as quickly as I could. I want to make more stars in this company and my way of making more stars is by giving nothing less than a five star effort and you’re gonna get that from me on Wednesday Night. Man… get better at the on the mic thing because I just bored the sh… crap out of myself by responding to the useless garbage you’re spilling. BE BETTER!