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Thaddeus Duke · (05-28-2021)

Dr. Lewis DeVille’s Office || Midtown Manhattan – New York City || 1:00 PM

It’s been nearly a year and a half since I started seeing my shrink. I’ve said before that it helps in some ways and in others it fails to live up to expectations. Lately, I’ve felt like we’ve been on the verge of a breakthrough. Time and again I come in here and lay my ass down, Doc asks me questions, I answer them, and we inch closer to what’s fucking killing me inside: the honest truth of my mother’s death. It isn’t so much that she’s gone, she was dead before I had a chance to really know her. The part we’ve been stuck on is the fact that my brain will not allow me to accept what I know to be the truth as the whole truth. Further still, there isn’t a way for me to learn the whole truth because anyone that knew a damn thing has long since passed.

So the cycle continues. I come in here. I lay down. He asks, I answer. He gives me tasks to do, sometimes I do them, sometimes I don’t. Regardless, we’ve hit a wall.

”How are we feeling today Thaddeus?” he asks politely from behind his desk. Dolly Waters, my now seemingly constant companion, looks on from a chair against the far wall just out of my line of sight should I tilt my head a little toward my chest.

”Frustrated,” I answer honestly. There was a time when I’d make a joke and mock the reasons in which he asks me these ordinary questions. Not so much anymore. I came to realize that these ordinary questions shed light on my frame of mind. My previous attempts to mock, joke and mask whatever it was I was feeling hinders his ability to do his job and hinders my development at the same time.

”Frustrated,” he repeats. ”In what way?”

”You and I both know we’ve hit a wall,” I answer, turning my head to look in his direction. ”Doc, maybe it’s time we put my mother to rest and we figure out how to get me to accept things as they are.”

”Is that what you really think?” he asks and I can’t help but sigh in response. ”Let’s shift gears then today. Have there been any developments in Francis’s adoption?”

”He’s home,” I answer with a gigantic smile on my face.

”That’s wonderful,” he replies with a smile of his own. ”I thought you’d have jumped the gun and told me that up front.”

I shrug.

”I missed him so much...” I blurt out as tears well up in my eyes but just refuse to fall.

”You passed your anger management courses I take it?”

”Yeah but that’s not what made Frankie a Duke.”

”Oh? What was the deciding factor then?”

I look at Dolly a moment, then at DeVille. I never told anyone what happened in the judges chambers.

”I strong armed the fuck out of him,” I say aloud. At first, I was hesitant to admit such dirty work in front of Dolly, but she’s my best friend. Or one of them at least. She wouldn’t judge me for getting my hands a little dirty for Frankie’s sake… would she?

Looking at her once more, I notice she has her hands over her ears. I can’t help but smile.

”On the subject of anger management I couldn’t help but noticing the cut above your left eyebrow and the scabs and reddened knuckles on your right hand when you walked in,” he begins.

Instinctively, I look at my busted up knuckles.

”From your return to the ring I gather?”

”No,” I say with a shake of my head. ”My homework.”

DeVille leans back in his chair and sits quietly for a few moments.

”Thaddeus you were instructed to confront your father about your mothers demise,” he informs me, as if I wasn’t fully aware of that already. ”Instead you get into a fist fight with him?”

”Yeah,” I admit shamefully.

From the corner of my eye, I can see DeVille take a look to his right in Dolly’s direction.

”And the bruise on Ms. Waters’ face?” he asks as he closes his eyes, and shakes his head in disgust.

”That was the whole reason it got even worse.”

”Would you care to tell me about it?”

Three Days Prior – Arlington, Virginia

For weeks, DeVille had been asking me to confront my father about my mother. For weeks, I’ve made excuses as to why I couldn’t. The reality of the situation is that I have a hard time confronting my father. It’s not fear or intimidation. I don’t fear him and he doesn’t scare me. We’re both extremely stubborn people and he doesn’t do feelings well. He’s dismissive and uncaring when it comes to my thoughts about my mother, especially when it comes to the events surrounding her death.

Dolly, god love her, has convinced me to do it in person rather than on the phone. So this morning, her and I hopped on the Harley’s and rode to Virginia. My father though, is out of town and I didn’t know that beforehand. In talking to his secretary, Janet, I learned he was due home tonight around midnight but gave me his spare house keys so that his only son could greet him with a surprise. Normally, it’d be a nice gesture. For all intents and purposes, he and I have been getting along rather well for the last year or so. Yet this, just isn’t one of those times. With the exception of his appearance in the courtroom, in which he came and went without a word uttered to me, we’ve both been distant the last month or so because we both know what’s coming and he doesn’t want to hear it and doesn’t want to discuss it, despite my pleas otherwise.

Click.

I close the door to my fathers penthouse apartment at The Hyde in Arlington. It’s dark and quiet. Nothing can be heard except for the tick…. tock of the grandfather clock against the wall to my left. Dolly flips on the light switch in the foyer and the place illuminates in dim lighting. “Perfectly Sebastian,” I think to myself. What isn’t perfectly him is that he’s thrown out the classic Gothic style he grew up with, in favor of a more modern style of decoration.

”Nice place,” Dolly states as she takes a step up the hallway.

”Mine’s bigger,” I reply to her.

”It’s not a competition,” she says with a smile.

”Isn’t it?”

Dolly stops in the hallway, looking at a painting attached to the wall.

”Hmmm, interesting,” she says as she takes a step back.

”What’s interesting?” I ask as I advance up the hallway toward her and look at the portrait with her.

It’s me.

”Don’t read too much into it,” I say to her as our eyes meet. ”It was painted by a fan and given to him.”

”Yet he displays it prominently,” she says with a raise of her brow.

”I know he loves me Dolly, it’s just...”

”Just what?”

”You don’t know him,” I finish my thought, without really finishing.

”Maybe you don’t either,” she suggests as we move on from the painting and venture into the living room. ”It’s eerily quiet… cept that clock.”

”Now that certainly fits him,” I say as I throw myself lying flat on his sofa.

”So the man you’ve spent the better part of a year telling me didn’t really care about you,” DeVille begins from behind his desk. ”The same man that dusted off his jacket and boots to help you out against Cataclysm when no one else would? The same man that put his own health and well being on the line for you while you were injured, just happens to have a painting of you hanging prominently in his hallway?”

”Yes,” I say without another word as I continue to stare up at his cheap tiled ceiling. To be honest, it kind of makes all my statements to the contrary sound silly. Maybe they are?

”Is it possible that he just doesn’t know how to show you love in a more… traditional way?”

”I know he loves me Doc, but I wish he would show it in a more traditional way,” I try to explain before posing a question of my own. ”Don’t you think that when I was a kid it might’ve done wonders for me had I received a damn hug from my only living parent?”

”I don’t think a little affection from time to time from your father would have changed anything about you. Good, bad, or otherwise,” he says pointedly. ”You’re just wired differently Thaddeus. It’s one of the reasons that I clear my schedule when you call in.

“Your life is intriguing.”

”This was a nice little detour Doc, but can I get back to my story now? I ask with a look in his direction.

”Yes, of course.”

Dolly has taken a place on my fathers sofa. She sits with my legs arched over hers as we wait for my fathers return home. Earlier tonight, I treated her to dinner at some steakhouse in Foggy Bottom. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t enjoying her company lately. With her at my side, it just feels different than anyone else. Not Liz, not Frankie, not even Corey Smith have been able to fill the void in my life quite the way Dolly can and always has. Then she asked me to team with her on commentary for her MayDay at Coreytopia and at first I thought to myself: “commentary? What the fuck would I say on commentary?”

As it turns out, it was a fucking blast to sit beside her and help her bring her vision for that show to life. The selfish parts inside of me- and we all have them- hopes that putting that show on for the XWF Universe would’ve given her the itch to end her premature retirement. Dolly Waters is a special human being with special gifts and unique talents.

She deserves to display them.

The XWF Universe deserves to see them on a regular basis.

”About MayDay,” I preface as I stare up at the ceiling in my dads place. I can feel her look toward me.

”Yeah thanks again for helping me call the action,” she interjects.

”Yeah don’t mention it, but did it give you the itch at all to end that silly retirement?”

”It isn’t silly,” she says as she flips through the channels on my dads TV. ”I found a true purpose in life. One that’s away from the crowds and expectations set upon people like us that never leave the comforts of their cushy offices in tall fancy big city towers.”

”MayDay didn’t have such expectations?”

”It did,” she says with a slight pause. ”But I just wanted to give something back to the fans and the company that made Dolly Waters a household name.”

”Darlin’, you made Dolly Waters a household name.”

Saying nothing, she shoves me off the sofa and I land on the floor with a thud.

”I mean,” I say with my face pressed against the carpet. ”I wanted to get up anyway.”

She chuckles a little as I get back to my feet and finally remove my jacket.

”You want a drink?” I ask as I open up my dads mini-fridge.

”What are my options?”

”Bourbon…. Or Bourbon, apparently,” I answer her as I stare inside the fridge at more than a dozen chilled bottles of Makers Mark. ”At least he has taste.”

”I’ll see what he has in the kitchen,” she says as she jumps up and heads off across the room. It’s an open floor plan so she never actually leaves my view.

”Y’know, yer not like most guys,” she says as she cracks open a can of Diet Pepsi and returns to the living room sofa.

”When you’re right, you’re right,” I say as I grab an unopened bottle of Bourbon from the mini-fridge and return to lounging across her. ”Anyway, what do you mean?”

”Never mind forget it,” she says before taking a swallow.

Still lying back on the lounger thingy, I look over at DeVille who has his eyes staring at Dolly.

”What?” she asks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

”You’ve spent all these years together,” he prefaces. ”And there’s never been the slightest attraction between the two of you?”

”We were kids when we met, Doc,” I inform him. ”It was always more of a really close friendship. Grown ass adults would make a hundred suggestive remarks in an effort to score points but we were always just us.

“Nothing romantic. Just a couple friends that would ride through the gates of hell with each other. Can we get back to the damn story Doc? This isn’t about Thad and Dolly.”

”You’re right,” he relents. ”Please, continue.”

Dolly and I have been alone here for a good two hours waiting for my dad. A result of that wait sees me growing rather inebriated and her cleaning up my messes. I’m not really much of a drinker, and this Bourbon is smooth.

”Thad, I really don’t think you should drink anymore,” she says as I reach over her for the bottle sitting on the table next to her.

”But mom!” I yell out like a ten year old being told ‘no.’

”No you’ve had enough,” she says as she tries to hide her laughter. ”Ummm hi,” Dolly says as she looks up behind me and to my left.

”What the hell are you two doing here?” my dad asks as he tosses his bag on the chair and heads to his kitchen.

”Hey dad, nice to see you too.”

”Yeah,” he replies disinterestedly as he takes a glass from his cupboard and dispenses ice water from the fridge. ”What are you doing here?” he repeats as he ventures back toward his living room.

Rolling off of Dolly, more appropriately the sofa, and to the floor, my head spins a bit so I choose to just stay there.

”You drank enough of my shit,” he says as he picks up two empty bottles.

”No I spilled two of them,” I say, lifting my head from his carpet. In response, he just shakes his head. ”Dad we need to talk,” I say to him as I try and fail then try again to get to my feet.

Clank.

”About what?” he inquires as he tosses the empties in the trash.

”Mom,” I answer back as I make my way toward the kitchen. He dead stops in his tracks before slamming down his glass of water on the counter. ”It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before.”

”Let it go Thad, go home,” he says quietly. ”Nothing good will come from talking about it.”

”That’s not good enough,” I say to him, standing my ground. He turns to look at me.

”You got a lot of nerve boy,” he says, his anger increasing as he comes around the kitchen island to stare me down in his famous intimidation tactic. As it happens, I don’t intimidate. I’ve seen too much, been through too much and lived through too much for a man twice my size to scare me.

”You come into my house when I’m not home,” he says, redirecting his anger. ”Get drunk on my stash! And to top it off boy, you bring that gutter slut in here with you,” he says with his face about three inches from mine. He points back toward Dolly as he utters his last phrase. I look at Dolly and see the expression of disgust on her face. Within me, I can feel the deep seeded rage boiling to the surface. Without thinking about it, I rear back and nail him in the face with a closed fist. The punch rocks him backward and he stumbles over his glass coffee table and falls through it, shattering it into a thousand little bits and pieces.

”Gaahhhh!” I exclaim as I frantically shake my aching hand. ”His head is hard as fuck!”

”Why’d you hit him!?” Dolly asks as she looks down at my dad then back at me.

”Because he called you...”

”So what!? He’s your dad and he was just mad!”

Still lying amid the shattered remains of his coffee table, my father rolls over and starts to get back to his feet.

”You really shoulda hit me harder,” he says as he stumbles to his feet.

”I didn’t wanna hit you at all, but you...”

I really shouldn’t have started a fight with him considering I’m about three sheets to the wind and he’s so fucking big. Before I can finish explaining to him, lifts me by my shirt and forces me hard through his trophy case and drops me. Bits of broken glass and splintered wood, along with some of his wrestling titles, rain down on my head. One piece of glass grazes the top of my head above me already nutty left eyebrow and I can feel the blood trickling down.

”Ahhhhh why are you so damn strong?”

Sitting there in the mess of title belts and broken glass and wood, I start to sift through the rubble so I can get to my feet.

”Had it,” I say as I toss his Television title. ”Had it,” and there goes one of his tag belts. ”Doesn’t exist anymore,” I say as I toss his Intercontinental title aside. ”Did it bigger and better than you could ever dreamed possible,” I say as I toss his Universal title off of me and start to get to my feet. Before I can though, he drives a knee into my stomach and I immediately vomit on his carpet.

Apparently Dolly has seen enough and she hops onto his back. I love her, but this isn’t a wrestling ring. She’s no match for his awesome strength. Easily he shrugs her off with his shoulder. She comes at him again but he backhands her in the face and she flies backward against the couch.

”Fuck no man,” I say just before charging him and driving him backward. He loses his balance and we both fall into his mini-fridge. With him pinned between the sofa and his little fridge, I start blasting him repeatedly in the face.

After a half dozen or so shots to his head and face, Dolly grabs my arm.

”Stop!” I look up at her with her arm hooked through mine so I can’t swing. Again looking at my father and his busted up face, part of me is ashamed and part of me is oh so proud. His chest heaves with exhaustion as he nears unconsciousness. Mine heaves with the flow of adrenaline.

”You’re clearly not gonna help me,” I say to my dad as he lifts his head to look at me a moment, then lets it fall back to the floor.

”Leave it alone Thad,” he says as he stares up at the ceiling. Rolling off of him, I lean my back against his sofa in almost a fetal position, resting my hands and my chin on my knees.

”I can’t dad,” I say to him as sadness starts to bubble its way to the surface and my rage subsides. ”I need the truth.”

”I don’t know the whole truth Thad,” he says as he rolls over to his hands and knees and coughs a few times. ”I know what you know,” he says, now leaning back on his knees.

”You believed it enough to kill her,” I say to him as a single tear escapes my left eye.

”It was my duty Thaddeus,” he says pointedly. ”I hope you’re never faced with those circumstances boy, because you just don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done.”

”That was my mother,” I say as more emotion starts oozing from me. ”And you took her from me.”

”She was my wife!” he shouts in response. For a moment, I almost thought I saw a tear welling up in his eye. But he’s him and I’m me, so here we are. ”She was one of two people I ever loved and I did what I had to do Thad. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it had to be done.

“I live it every day of my fucking life and you get a bug up your ass and need answers. I told you a dozen damn times I just don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

”One of two people,” I repeat his words back to him. He looks on at me, confused. ”You said mom was one of two people you ever loved. Who was the other?”

My father looks on at me stupefied. Incredulously. Confused. Perplexed. And every other synonym.

”You, dumbass,” Dolly chimes in.

”Oh right.”

DeVille removes his glasses and lays them on his desk.

”What?”

”Perhaps you were right after all,” he says as he wipes the sides of his nose. ”Maybe we need to move on. Maybe we need to focus on accepting the truth as you know it.”

I don’t immediately respond. Climbing to my feet, I begin to pace tracks in his cheap office carpeting.

”What are you thinking right now Thaddeus?”

”I’m thinking I need Doc D’Ville,” I answer him. Clearly he’s a little confused.

”But… I am Doctor DeVille.”

”Yeah but I meant the good one,” I respond without thinking. ”Shit, sorry man. I meant no offense.”

”You mean your former tag team partner,” he concludes on his own.

”Who said anything about ‘former’?”

”Does he know that?”

”Probably not,” I freely admit. ”I’ve been preoccupied with other matters Doc. He’ll come around.”

”He doesn’t seem the type to just ‘come around.’”

”Shut up, I’mma take care of it,” I say as I head for the door.

”Thaddeus, please update me on your findings,” he says as Dolly and I leave the office.

”Yeah okay,” I reply to him as I hurry Dolly out of the office. ”I wanna go play with Frankie.”

The question that’s I’m sure is on a lot of minds is why the Hart Championship? Why Ned Kaye? They’re easy questions yet the answers are complicated. It’s true that I’ve been where no Ned has gone before and been to the top of the mountain. I’ve virtually done everything there is to do in the XWF, and I’m only 22 years old.

It sucks for you Ned, doesn’t it? To be what? Four, maybe five years older than me and have less success than I do. To have won fewer championships than I have. I mean, don’t beat yourself up over it brother. There is only one Thaddeus Duke and the mold was shattered when I was created.

So again, why the Hart title? Quite simply, it’s the only major championship that still exists in the XWF that I’ve never held and moreover, I’ve never even received an opportunity for it. Until now, of course. See, last summer when I made my glorious return to this company, I wanted the Hart title and they went and gave me a shot at the Television title. I lost the title to Page and again, I wanted the Hart title. They gave me Bourbon instead. That guys a brick fucking wall. Whatever the key is to defeating me, he sure as shit has it. Thad Duke kryptonite if ever there was any.

In before Ned says I bEaT bOuRbOn FoR tHe HaRt TiTlE. Yeah, we know you did. Let’s not pretend for a second though that the Robbie I faced and the Robbie you faced were exactly the same. They weren’t. Tell yourself they were the same though Ned, I’m sure it’ll work out for you.

Moving along, I was embroiled in this blood feud with Chris Page and the Hart title just got placed on the back burner while I went and ended Cataclysm’s undefeated streak. I took their tag titles away from them, and clue in on that statement and keep that in the back of your mind as you continue watching. That very same night that I ended Cataclysm for all time, I entered this little battle royal with the intent of stopping Chris Chaos from lucking into another Universal title reign and what happened? I won it, won the Universal, and yet again my desires for the Hart Championship were placed on the back burner.

Now, fast forward six months. I no longer have the Universal title. I no longer have the tag team titles so it seems as though my schedule has cleared up a bit.

What about Ned Kaye? Why him?

The fact of the matter is real simple. In my speech on Savage after I won the Universal, I called Ned Kaye the future face of Warfare. And I’ve regretted it ever since. I liked Ned, personally. He was an alright guy and he even lent me a hand in a little segment against Chaos way back then, but it was clear as the weeks rolled on, that my judgment was clouded by my like for Ned Kaye. What I saw, and what everyone saw, was the run of the mill ‘take your vitamins’ variety “good guy” that just didn’t have enough in the tank to get the job done when it truly mattered.

So he loses the Hart title to R.L. Edgar and there’s no shame in that. Edgar’s a hell of a competitor but what happened to Ned Kaye? He couldn’t handle the loss like a man. He couldn’t handle the fact that someone else was better than him on a night so he set out to change everything about himself. He switched up his game and made sure the people that used to cheer him on, would much rather spit in his face and while I’m not gonna condemn the man for switching teams, for lack of a better phrase, the fact is he knew he couldn’t beat Edgar so he had to go and use underhanded tactics to reclaim that title and did it again in order to keep it.

Ned Kaye won’t have that opportunity at Leap of Faith.

The opportunity for the Hart Championship was given to me by Ned Kaye, one way or another. Despite the fact that I could have used the nepotism card, though I never have, and said ‘hey Unc, how bout a shot at the Hart title.’ Regardless of Theo’s newfound alliance with my very own personal jobber, sup Chris? How you doin’? Theo’s still a man that knows money when he sees it and Thaddeus Duke in any title match is bank. Even despite the fact that I should have won the handicap match on my own because I had that green ass rook down on his back after the Heat Seeker and he wasn’t kicking out. Dean Rose saw to it, that the referees hand never made it to three. His little band of misfit misshapen toys just couldn’t keep me down and out of stupidity or arrogance or somewhere in between, the dumbass went and got his own boys disqualified, effectively signing the death warrant on his own title reign.

He’ll have to win it or lose it on his own. And that’s what I’ve given to Ned Kaye in return for him graciously giving me the title opportunity I already earned. He has a chance to silence any and all doubters by defeating me in what, by way of my alliance with Paul Heyman, has sort of become my own specialty match. He has a chance to walking into the House of Horrors, and defeat me fairly in the center of the ring and all he has to do in order to accomplish that feat is… figure out how to do it.

This will sound all villainous and it’s by design.

Facing me is a big fucking deal, because I am a big fucking deal. Having the opportunity to beat me is a big fucking deal, because very few have done it and also because I’m a big fucking deal. If I wasn’t a big fucking deal, would Alias still be out there pouting and making threats because I beat him six months ago? If I wasn’t a big fucking deal, would Chris Page have set upon his own Universal title reign defending like a mad man just like I did? If I wasn’t a big fucking deal, wouldn’t someone else be landing all these television roles?

Alias pouts and makes his threats, because of me.

Chris Page has been defending that title like a mad man, because of me.

Those television roles are coming to me, because of me. And also because I’m pretty.

That’s just one small example of how to be good at being a badass. I’m pretty fuckin’ good at most everything I do and pointing out how good you are is arrogant and narcissistic. You could’ve been an arrogant narcissist and still stayed the same Ned Kaye that didn’t need a small inept army to maybe or maybe not become slightly more than a mediocre carbon copy of Chris Page.

Study Page. That’s how you do villainry.

Or take my advice, because while I’m not a villain, I do know where I cam from. And I surely know how to do it.

That’s the difference between people like you and people like me. I am who I am and I don’t put on an act to pacify the masses. They still love me despite my own arrogance and narcissism. They love me because I don’t need to resort to planning outside interference to help me win. They love me because I talk the talk and walk the walk. I say I’mma kick someones ass, then I go do it.

You?

You’ve proven nothing of the sort. You talk the talk but when push comes to shove and you gotta walk the walk? You step back and say ‘nah man, that’s for someone else.’ Why? Because you never believed you had the talent to get it done and all you’ve done by this little changeup is prove exactly that.

Here’s a little factoid, Ned. Another small lesson in villainous villaining that I’m giving you free of charge. Do you know why people are paying attention to the seldom defending Ned Kaye? Do you know why they’re paying attention to the little band of inadequacies you’ve put together? I mean, let’s face it. Your little band of brothers are slightly better than the Blu Twins of the world but not quite the Bushwackers.

The answer: because I’ve graciously shown my spotlight on all of you and given all of you the attention that none of you really deserve. That’s the thing Ned, wherever my spotlight goes, the eyeballs follow. Enjoy the rub boys.

You’re welcome.

Enjoy the ride to the moon, Ned. You’ll never be that high again.

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