March 2017

Sebastian Duke stands outside of St. Peter’s Basilica surrounded by familiar faces. His son Thaddeus, James Edwards (Thaddeus’ most trusted adviser), and hundreds of the Illuminatus Guard in full battle armor with weapons drawn and pointed at their King. Time slows to a crawl for him. The hurt and the pain he feels inside at this moment, masked by great anger is evident. Sebastian’s face is a crimson red adorned with a look of betrayal combined with the deepest and hardest pain in his heart that he’s ever felt before. He removes the crown and hands it to his son. At this point, to him, all voices seem to be nothing more than light inaudible murmurs. Sebastian scans his surroundings as the sound of an incoming helicopter looms nearby. He wonders to himself how things came to this, wonders just how he’s lost everything, wonders how the hell he’ll ever get it back without killing his only son. The same son he loves so dearly but is unable to show it for reasons he never understood. He was never raised with love or adoring parents, never raised with the emotional support a child sometimes needs. But why? Why, despite how he was raised, has he never found it within himself to treat Thaddeus better than Asmodeus (Sebastian’s father, Thaddeus’ grandfather) treated him? On top of that, why did Asmodeus show love and affection toward Thaddeus? It bother him immensely. What makes it worse to him, is the fact that Asmodeus is in the ground now and he can’t talk about it with him. Even if he could, Asmodeus would just brush it off and sweep it under the rug as “nonsense” or “rubbish.”

As the helicopter lands near him, the deposed Illuminatus King looks back over his shoulder toward his son. It’s at this moment that for the first time, it occurs to him just how much Thaddeus looks like his mother. The golden blond hair and the ice blue eyes to the ridiculously pronounced chin. He notices his sons steel resolve, and respects it even at this moment.

The former King steps aboard the helicopter piloted by his own half-brother Theo Pryce. Sebastian sits down and buckles in before placing a headset on his head. Pryce ascends and makes a wide circle over Vatican City before finally departing.

”You gave up the crown?” Theo asks, somewhat surprised.

”For now,” Sebastian replies coldly.

”I’m surprised you would do such a thing,” Pryce surmises.

Sebastian Duke stares out the window, looking down on the open sea below at nothing in particular. ”I was outnumbered. The choice was easy,” he begins to explain. ”Either die with the crown or live and fight another day.”

The camera slowly zooms in on Sebastian Duke until only his face is shown. A few seconds later, the camera retreats back out to a day just after Thanksgiving 2018 with Sebastian Duke sitting in a large chair at the Hotel de Matignon in Paris. He sits quietly as gunfire erupts in short bursts every few seconds. Meanwhile, as the gun fighting continues, there’s a loud thump every few seconds that has been going on for several minutes. What’s happening here is quite obvious, Thaddeus Duke’s forces are inside the residence.

Sebastian Duke remains by himself as the gunfire ceases. He looks toward the door that the enemy forces are ramming and knows its only going to be a few seconds before they burst through. Resting on a table to his left is a glass tumbler and next to it is a bottle of bourbon. As the large and heavy wooden doors continue to split and crack, he takes the bourbon and fills the tumbler. After swallowing the lot of it he tosses the tumbler across the large room and it crashes and shatters as it impacts the marble flooring. Greatly buzzed from the liquor, he maintains possession of the bottle from whence it came and slowly turns his head toward the right. On a table rests a loaded pistol. Sebastian rests the bottle between his thighs and picks up the pistol. He wonders to himself if he should spare his son the sight of watching his father blow his own brains out or if he should wait until Thaddeus, whom he knows is on the reverse side of the door, after all, he’s heard his voice shouting commands several times, comes through the door. He’s now officially lost everything he’s worked so hard for and contemplating ending it all is not an option any longer. From the day of his birth he has shed his own blood, his own sweat, whether he made good or bad decisions at this point is irrelevant, because he knows everything he has ever done was for the Illuminatus. Right or wrong, good or bad, it just is what it is. His reason for existing is and was the Illuminatus. Now without it, what would he do with the rest of his life, however long that may be?

He pulls back the hammer just as Thaddeus Duke’s forces finally break through the barricaded door. Sebastian tries to pull the trigger with the barrel digging into his temple but its all for naught as when of Thaddeus’ gunmen fire their weapon, impacting Sebastian’s sidearm causing him to drop the pistol. Thaddeus and five of his men march forward. The five men with their weapons pointed toward Sebastian Duke. Thaddeus, cool, calm and collected comes forward with them. As they near the former Illuminatus King, Thaddeus picks up his fathers sidearm and removes the magazine and ejects the loaded cartridge before handing the weapon to James Edwards who just entered the room.

Sebastian stares up at his son simultaneously with fatherly pride and the shame of defeat. ”You’ve won, Thaddeus. Let me be,” he pleads quietly.

Thaddeus turns his head away from his father and looks at James. The five gunmen surround the deposed King. ”Lower your weapons,” he orders his men. They obey without hesitation as James pulls over another chair. Thaddeus plops down in the chair facing his father.

”You have taken everything from me, Thaddeus. You win. I’m defeated and humbled at your feet!” Sebastian yells. ”Is that what you wanted to hear?”

”I didn’t want to do this,” Thaddeus states.

”Bullshit,” Sebastian fires back. ”You loved the adoration and the undying respect those men gave you and you wanted more. You wanted the absolute power that comes from leading the Illuminatus.”

”You seriously think that?”

”Thaddeus, I removed you from the military to humble you and at the first fucking opportunity, you march MY men, my FATHERS men into Vatican City, guns drawn, and rip my birthright from me.”

”You are so misguided and misinformed. Whoever is advising you needs hung from the gallows,” Thaddeus argues. ”Yes, I wrestled power away from you because you acted on impulse rather than solid fucking intelligence and you MURDERED 400 Iraqi children!” he screams, a tear escaping his left eye. ”Then I got rid of that stupid crown and abolished the throne that was created BY YOU out of jealousy and idiocy.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

”C’mon! You created the idea of being called King because in the XWF you were jealous of John fucking Madison and your inability to defeat him.”

”I’m done talking. Kill me. Arrest me. Do whatever it is you’re going to do, but do it now before I force your hand.”

Thaddeus sighs deeply. He forgot how hard it was to stay rational and talk sense to his father until now. He stands up and starts walking toward the busted up door.

”What of your father?” James asks.

”Cuff him.” he answers angrily as he continues to walk away.

”Where are you taking me?”

Thaddeus stands in the doorway and turns back to face him.

”Berlin for trial,” Thaddeus says as his men cuff his father.

To Be Continued...

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It’s been a long time, XWF Galaxy. What’s it been? 2 and a half, 3 years? However long its been, surely it has not been nearly long enough. I detest the fact that once again I will dawn the ring gear and give you undeserving miscreants the pleasure of seeing me work. I detest that fact with every fiber of my being.

See, I’d never grace this place with my presence again except for the fact that I literally have nothing better to do. That stupid kid of mine stole everything from me and even tried to hijack my legacy not long ago. He did alright for himself, but he failed on the biggest stage where I did not. As good as he was and as good as all of you current XWF stars are, you’ll never be as good as the King of Darkness.

I have an unrivaled legacy that spanned several years. I’ve had feuds and big time main event matches so brutal, so intense, that you waste’s of space couldn’t even stomach. I have a trophy case with so much gold inside that even Donald fucking Trump would be jealous.

Bigly.

I’ve been a tag team champion, a trios champ multiple times, I’ve held the United States title, the North Korean title, I was the first ever XWF Intercontinental Champion. I’ve been champion of the fucking Universe. I’ve held a 24/7 briefcase, I won World War X for my team. I reside in the XWF’s legends hall or whatever the fuck the powers that be call it.

So why, after all this time did I decide to come back to the XWF? Why did I take my gear from its retirement shrine? Why did Sebastian fucking Duke decide to come back, after all these years, to the Xtreme Wrestling Federation? Those are the obvious questions being posed by dirt sheets and pundits, wrestling fans that have the courage to stop me in the street. I could just stay retired, with my legacy forever cemented in the annals of professional wrestling history.

The fact is, as stated, I have nothing better to do, and you people will benefit from my boredom. The Galaxy can cheer me or boo me but the fact remains that I’m one of the best that have ever graced your presence and you’ll see why that’s the case on Warfare when I beat the regurgitated also ran in… I can’t even say his name. His name is a disrespectful mockery of all the things I’ve done, all the memorable matches and moments that I’ve had in my career. I’m back in the XWF because this roster is average at best and to be the best, you have to beat the best. That’s cliché and has been said a million times by a million different competitors but in this case, it’s actually true.

I’m back, because someone needs to push you worthless prop holders to get better and be better than you are. Facing the same old worthless talent week in and week out while merely going through the motions doesn’t make you better. Facing a bonafide legend like myself, even when you lose, makes you better for it. Consider it my brand of giving back to the company that I made a fucking star, even though they don’t fucking deserve it.

The man I face next Wednesday on Warfare is neither worthy of my respect nor my presence across from him in MY Kingdom… And it is still my fucking kingdom whether you mother fuckers like it or not. Nevertheless, I will be there and I’m gonna whip that boy from pillar to post because I can. And no one has ever whooped ass in that ring better than I have and that’s a fact.

In fact, I’m pissed off about this match. I have never felt this disrespected in all my life. I realize it’s my first match in like 3 years but even on my worst day, I can and I will make a fool of this jackass. I don’t know who put this match together but I can assure you, I will deal with it in time. Whatever happens to this fucker on Warfare, its on your hands.