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Thaddeus Duke · (01-28-2021)

Illuminatus Compound || Old Saybrook, Connecticut || 7:13 AM

When I’m at home, typically I’m up by four in the morning. Getting up so early allows me the opportunity to shower, to workout, to shower again, and to have breakfast before the hustle and bustle of running a nation. Before the pressures of make or break decisions begin to really weigh in. Granted, I haven’t been home as much recently. Between filming a television show, wrestling, promoting the company and the upcoming pay per view event headlined by yours truly and Chris Page, I’m not home more than a day or so a week and almost never back to back.

It’s kind of a double edge sword. Before becoming the Universal Champion, life was certainly a lot more simple. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy being the face of the place and the ambassador of the brand because I do enjoy it. It does however, take me away from the family quite a bit. Previously, I’d be away for two or three days at most every couple weeks, then back home to deal with real life. Plus, Liz and Frankie could be with me whenever I wanted, whenever they wanted. It’s not that simple now. Frankie has school and as much as I’d love to have them with me, his education is far more important.

They say it’s lonely at the top.

And it is.

Like I said, it’s a double edged sword.

Today though, I get to be the grand poobah. I get to play world leader, father, boyfriend, friend, all rolled into one. To be honest, I’m kind of looking forward to it. With the exception of world leader, I enjoy being those things. Leading a nation is agonizing work. It isn’t at all what you see in movies or on television. The President doesn’t just snap his fingers and watch things happen. There’s processes. You can’t act unilaterally in most circumstances. When you’re a nation at war, it’d be a lot easier if I could just snap my fingers and watch whatever I want to happen play out on my big screens. It isn’t that way no matter how much I wish for it. The Ares Project operates from American soil. Should I stage attacks on any of the bases we’ve found, then we run the risk of upsetting the American government and in turn, causing them to intervene militarily.

The previous American administration was no help whatsoever. They avoided my calls, put me off, and generally tried their best to ignore me. Maybe it was my relationship with the late Senator McCain that prompted the President to try his best to sweep my Illuminatus and the Ares Project under the rug. At least, that’s what Lincoln Tritter suggests. There’s a new administration in Washington now, one that was very friendly with John McCain and as such, our hope is that relations with the American government can move forward in a positive light instead of “don’t defend yourself on our soil.”

The door to my private office opens and Jim walks in carrying two Starbucks cups. I call it an office, but I just watch cable news here to be perfectly honest. No desk, no computer, nothing like that.

”Mocha?” I ask of Jim as he hands me a cup and sits beside me on the couch.

”Of course mate,” he answers.

”Was he there?”

”Was who there?”

I take a sip and turn my head in his direction. ”The fucking Pope, Jim,” I answer sarcastically. ”Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?”

He smirks and laughs under his breath. ”Garrett was not at work, no.”

I’m not really sure why I asked. I don’t really care if he was or wasn’t.

”What’s on the schedule today?” I ask of my chief of staff.

”You have a meeting with Tritter and the Chiefs at 0900,” he begins as pulls out his phone. After, you have about thirty minutes, then you have a call with the Deputy Director of the FBI about the Ares Project...”

”What’s his name again?”

”David Bowdich,” Jim answers.

”Make sure Lincoln is on that call,” I instruct him and he casually makes a note on his iPad or whatever the hell that thing is. ”Do we have any indication on which way that call will go?”

”Trump was a proper cunt mate, those are still his guys but it’s hard to say for sure,” he answers as he scrolls through his itinerary. ”You have a lunch meeting with Paul at noon.”

”Paul who?”

”Heyman, your business manager.”

I look at him with a contorted face in confusion.

”He knows you’re busy mate, he had some important things to discuss and needed to make sure you’d give him the time,” he advises as I scroll through news channels. ”So he called me directly and I put him on the schedule. And besides, the guy just took a hell of a beating for you.”

Just as he concludes, he starts a coughing fit.

”Lung infection?” I muse aloud.

”It’s fucking hell… sometimes mate,” he says between coughs. ”Oh and this afternoon, Corey is coming by for a little sparring session.”

Well, at least there’s some fun on today’s schedule. I’ve been coming up with a new move I may want to adapt as a finisher and I need to practice it a little before I put it to use. Don’t get me wrong, I do love the superkick. I love the snap sound it makes when my foot hits their chin. I love watching their eyes glaze over and roll back in their head a little. I love watching them collapse on the mat after having been struck by the in ring equivalent of lightning. It’s just that recently it hasn’t been as effective as it has been in the past so like any smart competitor, you know its time to adapt and adjust.

Best believe I’mma still use that kick though.

”I’ll see you in the Sit Room,” Jim says as he excuses himself. Before he exits the room, he tosses a balled up tissue in the trash can. He’s not aware of it and I saw him actively try and hide it, but he coughed blood into that tissue. It stained his teeth, pretty hard to hide that.

Alone again for a moment, I scroll through the channels and it amazes me a little how fast things can change. For four years on American cable news stations it seemed like there was a new crisis every god damn day. The new administration took office not even a week ago and the news stations are mostly calm. It’s a testament to the civility, humanity, and overall calming nature of the dude sitting in the big chair now.

Polishing off what’s left of my Mocha, I check my watch. It’s about time for Lincoln Tritter to stroll through the main hallway. Leaving my seat, I venture over to the door and grab a quick peek of Jim’s bloody tissue. Opening the door and stepping into the hall, I’m pleased to see Tritter walking toward me. Right on schedule.

”Mornin’ boss,” Tritter greets me as he begins to pass by me, but I grab his wrist. Stopping in his tracks he looks down at his wrist then into my face.

”In here a minute,” I instruct him as I unhand his wrist. Following me into the room, I gently close then lock the door behind us. ”Lincoln, how good are your hackers?”

”Pretty good boss… if they know what it is they’re hacking,” he says in his Georgia accented broken speech.

”What about medical records?”

He looks at me perplexed.

”Getting medical files… that’s pretty easy,” he informs me. ”Breaking the encryption… that’s the hard part.”

”So you can do it but it’ll take time to decrypt them is what you’re saying?”

He nods slowly.

”How long you think it’ll take?”

”Hard to say for sure boss,” he tries to let me down easy. ”Could be hours… days… months… Depends on the encryption software they’re stored in.”

”Well Linc, I need you to get some files for me.”

”Who’s the mark?”

Before I answer him, I reach down into the trash can and pull out Jim’s blood soaked tissue.

”Jim.”

Tritter sighs as he eye’s the tissue.

”I’ll get ‘em for ya boss.”

”He keeps telling me it’s just a lung infection, Linc,” I inform him. ”Does that look like just an infection?”

”Thad...” he clears his throat. ”I’m not a doctor… maybe it is, maybe it isn’t… you have my word I will find out.”

For the moment, I have no choice but to leave it at that. Tritter is taking it seriously and that’s the best I can hope for, really. Just like he’s not a doctor, neither am I. Maybe it is just as Jimmy says and he has a horrible lung infection. On one hand I have serious doubts that that’s the case, but on the other, I don’t really know why Jim would lie about his illness.

After meeting with my Chiefs and Tritter about where things stand with the Ares Project, I retreat back to my office with Tritter and James on my heels to complete the call with the Deputy Director of the FBI. As I mentioned earlier, this call isn’t expected to fall in our favor. As luck might have it, a new, friendlier administration may change our fortunes despite the FBI leadership being appointed by the previous assholes.

Now seated in the room with Jim at my side and Tritter pacing tracks in my floor, Jim places the call.

”Mister Duke,” greets David Bowdich. ”It’s been awhile.”

”It has Mister Bowdich,” I agree warmly, trying anyway I can to suck up along the way. ”How’s the family?”

”I don’t think this call is about my family,” he concludes aloud.

”It isn’t,” I agree with him as I watch Tritter shake his head as he paces.

”I know what it is you want me to do Thad, but I just can’t do it,” he informs me, just as he’s done in all three of our previous conversations.

”David,” I begin as Tritter mouths a few words to me. ”I know our previous conversations haven’t gone particularly well. It’s my understanding though, that your new bosses have a kinder, gentler stance with the Illuminatus Nation than their predecessors.

“Is that not true? Am I wrong here?”

David sighs audibly. I can almost envision him sitting back in his chair while his advisers mouth words to him, trying to get him to continue stonewalling me.

”No, you’re not wrong at all,” Bowdich admits. ”Regardless of that fact Thad, there is no precedent for labeling domestic extremist groups as domestic terrorists. There in fact, is no such list.”

”Why not?”

Bowdich sighs again.

”Congress has never passed a law giving the Bureau the authority to do so,” he explains.

”You have a new boss, who unlike the song I don’t know the name of, isn’t anything like the old boss, right?” I ask him to a near deafening silence. ”Would you agree that that’s the case David?”

”It’s a rather easy conclusion to draw,” he states.

”If there’s no law allowing the classification of extremist groups, then there’s probably not a law forbidding it either, is that a correct assumption David?” I ask him.

Intentionally, I continue to use his first name. It’s a negotiating tactic I picked up along the way over the years. Once upon a time, when my father held the reigns of the Illuminatus Nation, and after the first two wars, there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do so dad named me Foreign Ambassador to… virtually everywhere. Kind of akin to a Secretary of State in American government. After the civil war and I took over the nation, I never did name a successor. I just continued doing it. As such, it has allowed me to pick up on things now and again, and while I sometimes revert to my fathers way and fly off the handle when a particular negotiation doesn’t go my way, this one and these people, I treat with kid gloves. While they continue to deny me, they’re starting to personally like me. When those within the power structure of government like you, it’s far easier to get things done, far easier to convince them to see things your way.

”Thad, I know how you feel,” he says as he begins his rebuttal.

”No David, I don’t think you can possibly know that,” I offer in response.

”You’ve heard of the United States Constitution?”

”Of course I have David,” I answer with a bit more disbelief than I intended.

”Labeling extremist groups like the Ares Project as ‘Domestic Terrorists’ is technically a violation of the first amendment,” he informs me.

”David, they’re fucking killing us,” I plead with him. ”They’ve attacked me on American soil. They’ve attacked my house, they shot down my plane with me on it. I lost almost 200 people that day. They’re hitting me from American soil David. I can’t hit them back because the American government, your government, refuses to even acknowledge their existence, let alone that they’re murdering innocent people along the way.”

”We haven’t refused to acknowledge their existence, Thad, we just can’t do anything about it,” he tries to explain. ”Until the laws are changed...”

”The laws?” I interrupt him curtly. ”David, Senator Durbin introduced the Domestic Terrorism Act of 2019 almost two years ago and it has since sat collecting dust in the Senate Leaders office. Why is that?”

”Thad, American politics are volatile. Both sides are hostile toward one another, and while I understand that your hands are tied, I’d be willing to put money on the fact that the bill wouldn’t hold up in the Supreme Court on first amendment challenges...”

”And that’s why it hasn’t moved? That’s why that bill hasn’t seen daylight in two years?”

He says nothing.

”David, I have a worldwide population of 236,937 people. Do you know how many of them hold dual citizenship?”

”I don’t, no,” he replies.

”All of them,” I inform him. ”Including me. I’m American born. The Illuminatus Nation wasn’t granted nation status by the U.N. until 2015. Of the almost 237,000 people, do you know how many were born in America? Do you know how many of them still hold American citizenship?”

Again, he says nothing.

”41 percent, David.”

”I wasn’t aware of that,” he replies with a quiet tone.

”You’re aware the Ares Project has been targeting my people here at home and abroad, now answer these questions: how many of my people have been killed? Of those killed, how many of them were American citizens?”

”I couldn’t even guess,” he answers, still with his quieted tone.

”Over the course of the last two years, with the attacks on my home, my plane and my air base in Germany… David they’ve killed 17,128 of my people. Just under four thousand of them have been American.”

”Be that as it may...”

”You don’t have the authorization to help me,” I interrupt him, coming to that realization in the moment. His silence in response tells me that I’m right. ”What can you do for me David? I can only hold back for so long but I need to be able to protect my people. I need to be able to send these rats back into their holes.

“David, I need to be able to hit these sons of bitches on American soil without some asshole in your government saying I’m declaring war on the United States.”

”The United States has never recognized your independent statehood,” he blurts out.

”What?”

”The United Nations granted your statehood in 2015, but the U.S. never did because you have no actual territory. No borders,” he explains. ”That’s why I haven’t been able to help you.”

Looking up at Tritter, he stops pacing and looks at me with the slightest of smiles on his face. In his mind, it’s a bit of a breakthrough. If not that, then it gives us an idea of what we can do next: whatever we have to do to get the U.S. to recognize us as an independent nation.

”Until that changes, there’s really nothing I can do,” he states before pausing. ”What I can do for you is get you a meeting with Senator Reed.”

”Inhofe’s successor on Committee?” I ask of him, referring to the Armed Services Committee.

”That’s the one,” he replies quickly. ”Reed can’t recognize your statehood, but he has a solid friendship with the President and if you can give him something, I’d venture to guess he might be able to get into the President’s ear and move it along quietly.”

”What would I give him?”

”You have that elite military, Mr. Duke. You figure it out.”

”When can I expect some information on this meeting?”

He pauses a moment before responding. ”I’ll be in touch with your chief of staff by the end of business today,” he finally answers.

”David,” I say as a feeling of relief washes over me. ”Thank you for finally hearing me.”

”Listen, I know we’ve had some heated conversations in the past,” he begins. ”But I was always listening. When Trump was in power, there was no way he’d help you. The Ares Project is part of his base so he’d never authorize the elimination of his own supporters.”

”Well, thanks regardless. I owe you one.”

”Thad I’m not promising anything but a meeting,” he reiterates. ”The rest is up to you.”

With a nod, Jim ends the call and immediately give off an audible sigh as I clasp my hands behind my head.

”So what do we think?”

”Mate...” Jim says before clearing his throat. ”That was easily the most positive conversation you’ve had with him.”

”I guess the question now becomes… what do we give up in return?” Tritter asks as he leans against the wall, folding his arms in front of him. ”What’s on the table?”

”I’m not sure of anything,” I answer honestly. ”If I feel like I’m getting genuine support from the U.S. government, then everything is on the table.”

”McCain was an air man, like you,” Jim interjects, again clearing his throat. ”As good as our forces are, nothing in the world really competes with our Air Force.”

Coughing fit, of course.

”I was convinced then and I remain that way even now Thad,” Jim continues on, pausing to catch his breath. ”McCain was aiding you in hopes of gaining some of our technology.”

”If it means I can hit them, I mean really hit them, then when I’ve splintered the Ares Project into a million little pieces they can have the whole god damn thing.”

I’m in my feels tonight, so I’ll apologize in advance to anyone viewing this expecting me to cut down Chris Page.

If I’m being entirely honest, I half expected Page to come out here firing at me because I’m not defending the Tag Team titles the same night I defend the Universal title. I mean, he has a claim, right? He spent what? 7 months? 8 months? As Robert Main’s main squeeze and those two regularly had themselves booked in other matches in addition to their tag title defenses right?

They did.

I won’t pretend to know how often either of them did that. I don’t. What’s more is I don’t really care either. I mean, it’s one thing to defend the tag titles and have a match later against say Thunder Knuckles for the Television title on the same show. Or in Robert’s case, someone no one remembers. It’s another thing altogether to wear the Universal title and go on to defend multiple championships in one night. The Universal title is a marathon while every other match you ever have is a fucking sprint. I’m not at all saying I can’t do it. I can. After all I did capture both on the same night and in back to back matches, no less. But there’s something about this particular event that caused me to press pause and not defend both while leaving the Tag Team Championship in the very capable hands of D’Ville and my very best friend Corey Smith.

Chris Page.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Oh he knows Page is tough. That’s true. Chris Page is tough as nails and so am I. Neither of us can deny it and if either of us tried to, we should immediately be called out and figuratively castrated in front of the world for displaying such demonstrably false claims.

It isn’t his toughness or his abilities in the ring that cause me to focus only on the Universal Championship for Snow Job. It’s the fact that the world is about to see a bell to bell clinic of two of the greatest in-ring performers of all time. The world is about to witness the culmination of six full months of Duke versus Page in a feud that has spanned not only time but has transcended multiple XWF television brands and not one, not two, but three entire title divisions within those six months.

Titles. Wins. Losses. Friendships. Rivalries. Feuds. None of them matter at bell time because its Chris Page versus Thaddeus Duke for the final time and if I split my focus between him and anything else, it would be a disservice to my fans and his. It would be a disservice to the roster that has seen first hand and even at times, felt the heat of our vitriol toward one another. It’d be a disservice to ourselves and the once in a generation kind of magic that, one way or another, we created together since July 26th at Leap of Faith.

Chris Page has fought me tooth and nail for half a god damn year and while I have bested him more than he has me, I still owe him, this feud we’ve built, the fans of this company, and the roster that has their eyes glued to the monitors anytime he and I are in the same ring, my undivided attention. He has earned that from me.

I am damn proud of what we’ve done together. I know in his heart, so is he.

I don’t think he and I will ever be friends. We’re just too different, operate entirely different in too many ways. I’ve already accomplished what I set out to do when this thing kicked off back in July and that’s win his god damn respect.

See, I’ve made no secret of the demons within me from which I’ve had to overcome and defeat in order to even come back to the XWF in the first place. Leading up to Leap of Faith, I was finally feeling comfortable within my own skin for maybe the first time in my life and I wanted a moment after shedding the mask I wore for so long, both in front of and away from the XWF cameras. I defeated the vast majority of my demons which were far worse than any one opponent I have ever stood face to face with in any ring in any company. When I beat TK for the TV title it was like ‘finally Thad, you can enjoy something. You earned something, your demons are for the most part defeated, and you can live and breathe in your own skin, being the real you for maybe the first time ever.’

He takes a breath. Baring his soul to the masses sometimes takes its toll on him.

Enter Chris Page, not only interrupting my moment, but wearing the title around his waist that I just won. In the moment, as I was in the ring listening to him ramble on, robbing me of a moment I worked really hard to earn and I don’t just mean the damn title because fuck the title. Fuck all the titles, honestly. They don’t mean a god damn thing in the larger picture that is life. Taking a moment to reflect on where I was a year ago, to where I was that night in July, personally, inside… and he robbed me of it. So, as he was talking and honestly, I don’t remember a god damn thing he even said to me. And I don’t mean that as the typical A wrestler versus B wrestler say cool stuff to take shots at your opponent kind of crap we’re all used to. The fact is, as I stared out from the ring at the stage and Chris Page wearing my title I thought of the many ways I’d crush his skull for the blatant disrespect he showed me as a man.

That’s what this feud has been about.

Respect.

Throw out this win or that one, this loss or that one. Set the titles aside because at that moment, none of them mattered to me. He came out and disregarded me as a man, not as an opponent, and it just didn’t sit well with me. Or at least, that’s how I took it.

So despite this feud raging for half a calendar year, despite trading wins and losses, despite transcending three separate title divisions, our feud was never about championships. It was about respect. At High Stakes when Doc D’Ville and I ended the reign of dominance of Cataclysm, when I outlasted 18 other men and women to go home with not one, but two championships… I felt satisfied.

No one can say shit now.

So on Savage, on December 12th, the eighth anniversary of my fathers XWF debut I stood in the ring. The Universe chanting my name, blowing the roof off the MGM Grand, it was the moment I’d been waiting for. The culmination of all of the shit that I’ve personally had to defeat just to return to the chess game that I love so fucking much. I stood in that ring as the top dog after years and years of friends and opponents alike doubting whether or not I really had the goods to be called the best. If I sat here and said there weren’t times over the years where I even doubted myself, I’d be lying.

I’m an emotional man. I don’t shy away from it. I live in them and you can probably argue that I live in them too much and sometimes they get the better of me and you’d be right.

Again, he takes a breath.

So I stood in the ring having conquered the Universe and I’m just about to speak and…

Enter Chris Page.

I didn’t show it that night on TV but I was seething with rage and just like at Leap of Faith, I was imagining, as he made his way toward the ring, all the ways I could cave his skull in. Rather than acting on that emotion, instead I listened to what he had to say. To the surprise of not only myself, but probably 90 percent of the viewing audience...

Chris Page congratulated me like a man.

Chris Page extended his hand to me like a man.

Chris Page did something that the heels never do and admitted for the world to see and to hear that he respected me… like a man.

As far as I’m concerned, the hatred and the vitriol ended that night on Savage in Las Vegas. I got what I wanted. I earned the respect of a man that interrupted the moment I was meant to have at Leap of Faith. So you’ll just have to forgive me for forgoing my tag team responsibilities.

Chris Page is bigger than the Universal Championship. And I mean that.

I’m sure most maybe wouldn’t say such a thing, but denying reality isn’t really in my make up. He’s had countless world championships for a reason. He’s in the Hall of Legends for a reason. I readily accepted the match he challenged me to for a god damn reason and he is that reason.

Having said all of that, it does beg the question and I’ve been asked about it several times in conversation with friends and fans alike. If Chris Page finally gets the monkey off his back, if he somehow wrestles the Universal title from me at Snow Job, will I be the man like he was? Will I shrug off the sting of defeat like he did and swallow my pride like he did and confront Chris Page like he confronted me, and congratulate him?

Not only will I do that, but I’ll say it here and now, if I’m ever lucky enough to get inducted into immortality, inducted into the XWF Hall of Legends, it’s Chris Page that I’d want to induct me. I’ve had this meteoric rise over the last six months to where I am today and Chris Page has been hot on my heels the entire time.

Once again, I am proud of what we’ve done together. Each match we’ve had has been better than the one prior and this one will be no different. To have it headlining the first pay per view event of the year, to lead this roster into this new era of the XWF means the absolute fucking world to me.

I talk a lot of shit and I’m damn hard to shut up at times, but I need those of you watching this to know, that I’m showing you my truest feelings right now. Each and every man and woman on this roster is looked at with nothing but love from their Universal Champion and I’m damn proud to be the guy that leads them. I’m damn proud to headline this event with Chris Page across from me with one hell of a stacked undercard. From the opening match straight through to the very end, its the best of the best in this business and once again, deniers are liars.

The XWF isn’t the best wrestling company just because we’re here and we say it is. It’s the fucking best because we accommodate all styles of wrestling and there’s something for everyone. It’s the best fucking company on the planet, because it has the best, most dedicated to the craft individuals in the industry. You could stack our roster against anyone’s and the XWF will win every time. We are that fucking good.

For all the things I’ve done up to this point and all the things I’ve said in this promo alone, it hurts to know that this might be Chris Page’s last shot at the Universal title. I mean, he’s not getting any younger. Not a shot, just the truth. It’s unfortunate that for all of his accomplishments, its the title I wear that has eluded him his entire career. He’ll sleep well at night after I beat him, knowing that it won’t even matter. His legacy has been etched in stone already. He’s worn more titles than maybe I ever will and I’m okay with that. It doesn’t mean he’s better, it just means he was damn good for a real long time.

He’s still damn good.

The fact is though, I worked so fucking hard to get where I am and to defeat the demons I have and to finally, once and for all, place my name alongside the all time greats and I’m just not giving that up anytime soon. It has been an honor to feud with Chris Page. It was an honor for him to admit he respected me. And it will be an honor to go out there at Lambeau and put him down for good. Maybe it won’t be the final match of his career, but then again, maybe it really should be.

I’m not necessarily saying it’s me that should retire Chris Page, I’m also not saying it shouldn’t. What I’m also saying, is that nothing he does for what’s left of his career will matter the way this does. The culmination of an epic feud between two guys that can wrestle circles around any roster, not just ours. The final shots of a war that has raged for six months pitting the seasoned, wily, decorated veteran in Chris Page against the young, brash, arrogant, you name it, Thaddeus Duke for the Universal title.

There’s no better way to go out than to lose your final match to the best wrestler and performer he’s ever faced, for the grandest prize in the industry, in the main event of a major pay per view with nearly 100,000 fans in attendance. Nothing and no one else will top it.

It isn’t my choice to make.

It’s also not my choice that I have to put him down for the last time and beat him.

It’s what we do.

He’d have it no other way.

But in all honesty, neither would I.

One day, when my time is up and my number is called and it’s time for my last match, I hope there’s another Thaddeus Duke standing across from me, the same way there’s another Chris Page standing across from him.

Sometimes though, we wrasslers are just too stubborn to realize when the time is up, and you’ve taken on more than you can really overcome. I don’t know what’s in store for Page in his future. I do know that my Universal title isn’t part of it. I also know that when Chris Page decides its time to say goodbye and ride off into the sunset… The Lionheart will be there to lay down one last challenge… one… last… time.

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