Day One

”The surgery should take about three hours,” the surgeon informs me.

I’ve been in flight already for two hours. Brandon and I have holed up in my private room on board the jumbo airliner. Thad was airlifted from the warzone to the closest hospital: Clinica Sierra Vista in Shoshone, California. They’d have already cut him open, but they needed to stabilize him first. What I’ve learned so far is that Thad was shot in the heart when he was 15 and the bullet is still in his chest. I knew he was shot, I mean the scar makes it pretty obvious. When McGovern shot him at almost point blank range in his vest, it knocked the old bullet loose. A result of which saw the bullet pressing against one of the major heart valves restricting his blood flow. In turn, it caused his blackouts and his troubled breathing.

”Ma’am?” the doctor interrupts my thoughts.

”Hmm?”

”I need your permission to go in,” he says.

”And if I say no, there’s a good probability that he dies of a stroke or something like that, right?” I ask of him. It’s sarcastic as hell, but there’s no other option and now he’s pissing me off.

”Basically ma’am,” he replies.

”I’d prefer if I wasn’t a widow at 31 years old, so FUCKING FIX HIM!” Okay, so I lost it a little bit.

”Yes ma’am,” he says before exiting the screen.

Closing the laptop, I take a deep breath and lean back in the chair. My traveling companion, Brandon reaches over, handing me a box of tissues.

”What’s this for?” I ask as I grab the box.

”You’re crying,” he answers.

”I am n… oh my God I am,” I say as a tear tickles my cheek. ”Fuck you for this, Thad,” I say quietly as I dry my face.

”You shouldn’t worry,” Brandon says in an attempt to be comforting. ”He’s one tough mother fucker.”

”It’s heart surgery, Brandon!” I protest.

”Well, chest surgery is more accurate,” he argues. ”They’re not actually doing anything to his heart. They’re just removing a bullet that’s stuck up against it.”

”Keep your shit up and I’m goin’ back to calling you Braden,” I joke, but only sort of. He laughs anyway. ”How are you of all people not scared?”

”I am,” he admits as he grabs my hand and squeezes.

---

Day Two

His surgery went off with minimal complications. His blood pressure plummeted once or twice, but they got him back quickly. That three hour procedure really took about six. I always felt like doctors could moonlight as weathermen with how often they’re wrong in their forecasts.

He’s been heavily drugged for the last 24 hours. This morning they began weening him from the drugs and he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness ever since. Nothing he says in his fleeting moments of being awake is even remotely coherent but at the same time, it’s a relief just to hear his voice again.

”Where’s my horse?” he asks, causing Brandon and I to look at each other in confusion.

”Your what?” Brandon asks.

”Baby you don’t have a horse,” I say while trying to hold back a laugh.

”Yes I do,” he insists. ”Flubber.”

Thad laughs at himself then falls back to sleep.

”He’s still higher than a kite,” Brandon says with a smile.

”Lucky bastard.”

”I meant Phobos,” he says. He laughs again for a brief moment before going back to sleep once more.

In the pocket of my jacket, my phone rings. Instantly, I know who it is. In my haste to leave New York to get here, Frankie was left behind with Berta. He’s been checking in every hour on the hour, even in the dead of night. That little boy is gonna be exhausted.

”Yes baby?” I greet the boy.

”How’s my dad?” he asks groggily.

”Thad’s gonna be fine Frankie,” I answer him. ”Have you slept?”

”Dozed off a few times, but not really,” he answers.

”They’re taking him off the loopy drugs so he’s in and out,” I inform the worried eleven year old apple of my eye. ”Now turn your phone off and don’t call again for at least four hours.”

”But what if he wakes up?” he protests.

”Honey I promise, Thad won’t even be coherent for several hours,” I let him know. ”He was just talking about his horse named Phobos before he passed out again.”

”Thad doesn’t have a horse.”

”Now you see what I mean?” I ask him, trying perhaps with futility for him to see it my way and get some rest.

”I guess,” he replies unconvincingly.

”Frankie I promise, as soon as he’s awake and alert, you are the first person he’s gonna wanna talk to.”

”Alright,” he finally relents. ”I’ll try and sleep.”

”Hey!” Thad shouts as he sits up in bed suddenly while I ended the call with Frankie. ”Did you take my Skittles!?”

Brandon and I just look at each other while Thad slams himself back against the bed and falls back to sleep.

”Whatever he’s on...”

”Yeah me too.”

Day Three

Opening my eyes for the first time it what seems like ages, I can smell the sterile cleanliness that can only be attributed to a hospital. Why am I in a hospital? How did I get here? What happened? Did they blow the building? Is McGovern really dead?

Shaking the sleep from my eyes, I start to look around the room and myself. A plethora of tubes and wires attached to me like I’m a machine. The incessant, annoying little beep of the heart monitor. Sitting up a little bit, I scan the room some more and notice Lauren and Brandon using each other as a pillow. Part of me wants to wake them because there was a point during battle that I didn’t know if I’d see them again. Another part of me thinks they’re probably exhausted.

For now, I let them sleep.

On the tray table to my left is an unopened can of Ginger Ale and the remote for the television. Cracking open the small can I take a sip while I turn the TV on.

”Fucking gross,” I say quietly to myself. ”How do people drink that?”

Flipping through the channels, it’s only locals.

”Seven channels? Seriously?” I question aloud but quietly. ”It’s like 1983 or something.”

Unsatisfied with the channel selection, mostly because the majority of them were covering the conflict in Death Valley or the war in Ukraine, I switch off the television and look across the room at my sleeping beauty. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. We’re not without our problems, but she’s fucking incredible. Somehow some way, she makes me want to be a better man.

I hardly ever am though and I don’t know how to fix that.

Growing bored, I grab a magazine from the end table and toss it at my wife. It hits her, startling her from her sleep as it falls to the floor. In her sleepiness she lifts her head, notices the magazine and punches Brandon in the arm causing me to chuckle. Brandon wakes immediately.

”What the fuck?” he says as he rubs his arm.

”You hit me with a magazine,” she informs him.

”How would I do that when I was asleep?” he protests

”That was me,” I say with a laugh.

Both of them look at me, but neither of them move.

”I guess I didn’t die,” I joke and Lauren leaves her seat. Approaching the bed, she sits on the edge and lays down against me.

”Can you be done with all the war games now?” she asks with a sniffle.

”Soon,” I answer.

”You got McGovern,” she protests. ”The facility was demolished and the Ares Project has been destroyed.

“There’s nothing left for you to do but come home and by husband and a dad,” she concludes.

”There’s still the matter of Lincoln Tritter and his betrayal,” I argue.

”I took care of that,” she says as she snuggles up closer to me.

”What do you mean you took care of it?”

”He admitted to conspiring against you,” she begins. ”He conspired to kill Frankie, Thad… what do you think happened?”

For the moment, I say nothing. I’m not sure how I feel about that. On one hand I’d have really liked to have seen him and heard him myself. I’d have liked to have saved Lauren the trouble of doing such a thing. On the other hand, I’m a little bit proud of her for stepping up in my absence to do what needed to be done.

Nevertheless, soon there won’t be a need for any of it. But not soon enough.

”I’m very proud of you,” I say to her with a kiss on the side of her head. In this moment, I feel some pain in the center of my chest. Reaching up with my free right hand, I feel something bulging from beneath my gown.

Not that part, grow up!

Lifting the gown from my chest, I see the bandage. So that’s why I’m here.

”There’s still some things that need to be done,” I regretfully inform her.

”Like what?” she asks as she lifts her head from my shoulder.

Before I could answer, a small person walks into my room with their face shielded with flower pots. The person sets the flowers down revealing himself as my oldest child.

”Frankie!” I blurt out excitedly, nearly jumping out of bed. In my excitement of seeing my little man, Lauren is shoved off the bed and she hits the floor with a thud and a yelp.

”Thad!” he shouts back equally excited. He rushes over and hops up on the bed, but then he hesitates. ”I mean, can I...”

Before he can finish, I grab him by his shirt and pull him into a hug, ignoring the pain in my chest. I can barely contain myself and as per usual, some tears fall.

”I missed you so much,” I say to the boy while covering him with hugs and kisses.

”You’re gonna need a bigger room,” he says through some laughing.

”Why?”

”They bough everything,” he replies.

”Who’s they? And how’d you get here?”

No sooner do I get my query out of my mouth and Sloane Taylor walks in carrying different stuffed animals and some balloons. Behind her, with his body almost entirely concealed by more balloons and stuffed animals, is Sebastian Everett-Bryce.

”Heeeeeey!” Sloane yells out excitedly.

”What are you guys doin’ here!?” I ask happily as I start looking over the balloons. Most of them aren’t even applicable to the situation. ‘Congrats! New Mom!’ ‘It’s a Boy!’ ‘Sorry For Your Loss’ and many others.

”Thought maybe you’d like to see Frankie,” Seb answers. ”And Sloane wouldn’t let me not buy everything so, you can thank her for all of this.”

”Thank you guys so much,” I reply to one of my bestest friends.

My heart is so full right now.

”How you feeling?” Sloane asks as she stands beside my bed.

”Fan-fuckin-tastic,” I answer her emphatically. ”Bit sore, but I guess that happens when they cut open your chest.”

”You my friend, need yourself a vacation when you get out of here,” Seb advises. He’s right. But at the same time, ‘the work goes on and the cause endures,’ as the late Ted Kennedy once said.

”You know, Seb,” I begin as the wheels of deviancy begin to turn in my head. ”I could’ve died.”

”But you didn’t,” he replies and I’m pretty sure, he knows exactly where I’m going with this.

”I just underwent heart surgery and it’s really caused me to face my own demise,” I continue my faux manipulation.

”And yet you’re still here,” he replies unwavering. ”Odd.”

”I think this would be a fine time,” I look over at a smiling Sloane just briefly, before looking back to Seb. ”If you would allow me to...”

”No, you can’t borrow Sloane,” he says with a smile. It might be a bit of a forced smile.

”Looks like you’re about back to your normal self,” Lauren chimes in.

”Yeah,” Sloane says with a smile. ”Can he borrow Sloane?”

Sloane’s inquiry causes everything to stop. Seb and I look at each other for a brief moment before I turn toward Sloane. Jokingly, and without saying a word, I start to slowly hike up my hospital gown.

”You might not know this but,” I begin as I hike it higher and higher. ”I’m actually naked under here.”

Seb slaps my hand playfully – well mostly – before pulling the gown back down toward my knee.

”Okay that’s enough of that,” he says in his most uptight Britishness he can muster.

”That’s cute,” interrupts the nurse that none of us even realized was in the room. ”I’m afraid, Thaddeus, that there will be no fun between the sheets for you for several days.”

”What!?”

”Oh my God no,” Lauren echoes my sentiment.

”HA!” Seb laughs aloud to himself.

”Shut up Seb,” I say with fake anger.

”AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

”That’s not funny, Seb!”

”You’re roight mate,” he says through his uncontrollable laughter. ”It’s fookin’ hilarious!”

This… is a fucking disaster!

---

Day Four

For as long as I can remember, I’ve never felt more well rested than I am right now. Being chemically unconscious for a couple of days will do that. Truth be told, I was completely exhausted and really, at my wits end. In many ways, mentally I was coming undone. McGovern doing what he did to me, was a blessing in disguise.

I’m awake now. Fresh and alert with a clear mind and even clearer goal on the horizon.

”I just don’t think you need to do it,” Lauren says after I break the news to her that I need to go to Europe.

”What you think and what I know are two entirely different things,” I break the hard truth as I gently slide a t-shirt over me.

”You’re not even supposed to leave yet,” she reminds me. ”They haven’t discharged you.”

”Well, nobody puts Thaddy in a corner,” I joke. ”A few more days and it’s all over for good.”

”That’s what you said before you went off to battle ten days ago,” she states angrily. ”I want my husband home.”

”I know,” I say as I stand up and take her into my arms. She leans against my chest, laying her head against my shoulder. ”And I want to be home. Believe me Babydoll, there’s nothing in the world that I want more.”

After signing some waivers and forms for checking myself out against doctors orders, I was out of the hospital and on my way to my fueled up and waiting jumbo airliner.

---

Day Five

The flight across the pond was obviously a long one. If nothing else, it gave me an opportunity to rest, relax and recuperate just a little more than I had been. Just before final approach, I meet with Dick Small via the airborne Situation Room aboard the plane. With Dick still in New York, it was imperative that I get up to speed on all the other happenings around the Illuminatus State.

”No, they don’t know you’re coming,” he says in respect to my next objective. ”As far as we can tell, they have no idea Lincoln Tritter was compromised and haven’t the slightest clue that we know all roads lead back to them.”

”Good,” I reply quietly. I’m still hurt by Tritter’s betrayal of me and my family. To me personally, it’s kind of a whatever type of thing. The fact that he conspired with my enemies to hurt Frankie… that’s what hurts.

”The military forces outside Rome have been mobilized and they’ll be waiting further instruction from you,” he informs me.

”How are we proceeding with the dissolution?” I ask of him. The dissolution of the Illuminatus State is still my top priority. Before that can happen, there’s some loose ends that need to be taken care of.

”Lauren has been drafting the resolution in coordination with Brandon and a couple of the Chiefs,” he answers. ”In roughly 72 hours, the Illuminatus State will be left to the history books.”

For a moment, I smile. No one knows the enormous pressure it takes to do what I’ve done since I was teenager. No one knows the euphoric feelings I have now that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

”Thad we have an offer,” he interrupts my thoughts.

”I’m listening,” I inform him.

”The United States really wants the air force technology,” he begins. ”Really, they want the entire military. The men and women, the equipment, all of it. Mostly though, its the air force.”

”Well I’m not about to sell humans Dick,” I retort quickly. ”They’re not slaves or cattle. They’re released from their duties when the clock hits zero.”

”I figured as much, and I’ve told them that.”

”Compile a roster,” I tell him. ”Name, rank, phone number. If they want these men and women, they can recruit them themselves.”

”They’re offering a rather generous figure for the military,” he states.

”How much?”

”14.9 billion dollars,” he answers.

”Sold,” I inform him quickly. ”Divide the funds up among the active duty personnel as a form of severance.”

”Consider it done,” he answers back. ”Off the top of my head, that’s roughly sixty grand apiece.”

”Maybe, but it’s still not as much as they all deserve.”

”Thad,” he grabs my attention. ”There’s one other matter that needs to be taken care of before that proverbial clock strikes zero.”

I look up at him on the screen.

”Your fathers trial has wrapped in Germany,” he informs me. ”I’ve delayed the tribunal deliberations, but as soon as you’re done there, you need to get to Berlin.”

”Yeah,” I reply stoically. ”Let the tribunal know I’ll be there by morning.”

Upon landing in Rome, I take my time strolling through the city. Every few blocks or so, I see a few tanks rolling through the city a good distance from me. The locals don’t think anything of it. The base here is just on the outskirts of the city and it’s not uncommon for them to see Illuminatus vehicles rolling in and out of Rome on any given day. It’s been years now. They’ve grown accustomed to it.

Unlike other military operations, I’m not dressed for battle. I don’t anticipate anything of the sort. Unlike official visits where I’d be wearing my dress armor or royal regalia, today I’m casual. Blue jeans, a shirt, a denim jacket and a baseball cap over my head. I’m neither armed, nor guarded in any way. To anyone paying attention, I just look like an American tourist, and not Thaddeus Duke, former tormentor of the Roman people and more specifically, the Catholic Church.

Reaching the ‘gates’ of Vatican City, I stop and lean against the outer wall for a moment. I’m not looking forward to what I’m about to do, but at the same time, it’s a necessary evil.



A large group of people passes by me on their way toward Saint Peter’s Basilica for noon mass. Stepping away from the wall, I start to bob and weave my way into the group. Blending in as best I can, we make our way toward the Basilica. Inside, I sit in the middle of a pew, surrounded by ‘enemies’ as it were. A short time later, mass begins, presided over by the Holy Father himself.

I’ve found myself not really paying much attention to the service. Religion overall is both good and bad for humanity as a whole. This church in particular, this brand of religion, is rife with hypocrisy and I wonder to myself if I should feel bad for what’s coming in just a short time. Part of me does, to be sure. Yet at the same time, it needs to be done.

As the Latin legal phrase suggests, Fīat jūstitia ruat cælum. Let justice be done though the heavens fall.

At the conclusion of mass, many stick around in an attempt to meet the Pope. Though today, he’s not receiving anyone. He retreats behind the throne of Saint Peter with a couple of priests and bishops while the others file out of the Basilica.

With my head down and only being about four pews from the front, and now at the aisle seat, he looks toward me several times during his conversations. A few moments later, the man is left alone. Slowly, he makes he way passed the throne and down the steps of the altar. Coming toward me, he stops at the pew I rest in.

”Mass has concluded, my son,” he says in Italian.

”Excuse me Your Holiness,” I say with my head down as he starts to walk away. I can see him stop. I can only imagine him rifling through his memory bank trying to place the voice. It’s been a year since I’ve been here, a year since I’ve spoken to him. ”You got time for a sinner?”

(Yeah it’s lifted. No, I don’t care. :))



He gently places his right hand on my right shoulder. ”My son, the Lord always has time for his children,” he says with his warmest attempt.

In the moment, I slowly look up at him. After taking a brief look at me, he steps back and removes his hand from me.

”Expecting someone else?” I ask the man calmly.

”I wasn’t expecting anyone at all,” he answers.

He tries to act unafraid, but his body language betrays him. Standing up from the pew, the man takes a step or two backward toward the altar. ”Are you afraid Father?” I ask the man coolly.

”No,” he lies. ”This is your house, Your Grace. Why would I be afraid of you?”

”Because you expected me to be dead right now,” I answer him with a step or two forward. His steps follow my own as he steps backward, nearing the base of the altar.

”That’s preposterous,” he proclaims. ”Our battles have been over for years. We’re at peace and we’re both better off for it.”

”You’ve been funding my enemies,” I say to the man. At once, the color drains from his face as he remains silent. ”You stand up here allowing people to get on their knees and swear allegiance to your God while kissing that filthy disgusting ring all the while authorizing the murder of a TEN YEAR OLD CHILD!”

My rage causes him to jump backward which in turn, causes him to stumble over the bottom step of the altar forcing him to fall back on the steps.

”Father, I’d ask you what kind of God would support the murder of an innocent child, but I’ve seen the work of your Church,” I tell him. ”Hurting innocent children has always sort of been the modus operandi, has it not?”

”I don’t know what you think you know...”

”Save the lies Father,” I interrupt him. ”Lincoln Tritter admitted to everything.”

”Is he...”

”Of course he is,” I say, refusing to let the man speak. ”But you needn’t worry much, Father. It’ll all be over soon.”

”What are you planning?” he asks.

”To end it once and for all,” I admit to him.

”I don’t know what that means,” he protests.

”Come on man!” I say with a laugh. ”You know me. You know what it is I do to people that betray me. You know what I do to people that THREATEN THE LIVES OF MY CHILDREN!”

I pause a moment in an attempt to let my anger subside.



High above, the bell in the Basilica begins to ring. Soon after, another bell joins it. Then all over Vatican City and Rome, more bells join in the fray. Which can only mean one thing: Illuminatus war planes are incoming.

”You’re attacking us!?” he cries out incredulously.

”No Father,” I smile. A second later, the first of the tanks outside clear their cannon delivering a direct strike to the facade of the Basilica. ”This is still my house so, technically I’m attacking myself.”

Beginning to walk away, my heart smiles just a little bit with joy. No, I’m not proud of ordering the annihilation of Vatican City. What I am proud of, is that through all the trials and tribulations, through all of the betrayals and the guns pointed at my head and those pointed at the heads of my children. The Duke’s get the last laugh in the end.

”The international community will not stand for this!” he calls after me.

”There’s no international laws stopping me from destroying my own buildings Your Holiness,” I say before coming to a stop. ”You have about ten minutes to get every person safely out of this city before the bombs start falling.

“In less than 72 hours, I’m dissolving the Illuminatus State and part of that decree is giving this city of bullshit, slander and lies back to the Catholic Church.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy the redecorating.”

Without another word, I exit the Basilica. Outside, many of the cities inhabitants are already seeking refuge outside the walls of the Vatican. They are not my enemy. The Church and everything in stands for however, most certainly is. To be clear, civilian targets are not on the menu. Just the Basilica and everything else relating to the seat of power of Catholicism.

After taking a seat in a Humvee, several minutes later I see the Pope and the hierarchy of the Church fleeing their capital paving the way for my planes to begin their duties. One after another, bombs fall on the city. Despite the warzone, despite the noise, I feel at peace. As such, I close my eyes and fall asleep for just a little while.

The sounds of missiles, bombs, and tank rounds slows to its conclusion. The relative silence awakens me from my brief slumber. Surveying the scene, it’s not entirely destroyed but I feel I’ve made my point. The great dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica is pock marked and most of the Church affiliated buildings are ablaze. Considering the circumstances, nothing has ever seemed so sweet.

---

Day Six

It isn’t the destination, but the journey. If I said I was looking forward to this, I’d be lying. While I’m no doubt looking forward to the end, how I get there still causes me a lot of turmoil and strife inside my head and my heart. None of this has been easy, but all of it, I’ve felt was necessary. Does that mean I’ve been right every step of the way? Does that mean I haven’t made mistakes? Regrets? No, it doesn’t. Not everything I’ve done has been righteous. I have made a lot of mistakes and I certainly regret a great number of them.

Today though, it isn’t about war. It’s not about tactics and strategy. It’s not about winning this battle or that one. Today is about right and wrong. My fathers fate will be decided by a trio of judges serving on his tribunal for the murder of my mother.

That’s the easy part.

The hard part is what comes after the tribunal renders it’s verdict. I have it on good authority that he’s been found guilty of all charges. What’s next lies squarely on my shoulders. During his trial years ago, I let him walk. He was responsible for the unjust killing of nearly 300 Iraqi school children. Yet I let him walk. That was a mistake. That is and was the biggest regret I’ve had in my entire life. While it hasn’t been a terribly long life just yet, it is a life full of making one critical decision after another.

I let him walk.

I let him live in hopes that he and I would one day find peace and co-exist. Had I known then what I know now, I don’t know what I would have done. I do know at the very least, he’d have been behind bars from the moment his guilty verdict was read aloud. No one has the gift of hindsight in the moment.

Before we’re brought into the manufactured courtroom at James Edwards (formerly known as Asmodeus) Air Force Base, I decided to see my father. Since his arrest after Fire & Ice in January, I’ve spoken to him just one time. It didn’t go particularly well.

Sitting in the secure room dressed in my dress armor as Head of State and the military, I look up from the table as my father is lead into the room and sat down. His guards shackle him to the floor but it’s mostly a formality. I really don’t fear him in any way.

”You look ridiculous,” he tries to joke.

”You know what happens today?” I ask of him.

He shrugs at first. ”You either let me go again,” he begins. ”Which I highly doubt you’ll do. So, I assume you’ll have me locked up for the rest of my life.”

”What a life it’s been,” I say with obvious sarcasm. ”You never had much capacity for love. Not for me, certainly not for my mother...”

”I loved your mother,” he interrupts. ”And despite what you think of me Thaddeus. You are my son. My only[i] son. And I love you too.”

”Instead of loving anyone,” I continue on, ignoring his interrupting statements. ”Instead of allowing yourself to be loved. Instead of finding ways to be happy, you sat mostly quiet your whole entire life. You’d stew and brood for hours upon hours of every passing day.

“Does that sound like a life worth living to you?”

No answer.

”In less than two days...” I pause. ”In less than two days the dissolution of the Illuminatus State will be complete. I’m tired of the lies. I’m tired of the fighting. I’m tired of having bounties placed on the heads of my children.

“We’re closing up shop Dad. This building we’re in, and every piece of equipment we own. Ever single installation we possess is being sold to the United States government.

“So I’ll ask you again. Do you know what happens today?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just leans back in his chair as a knock comes from the door and Dick Small enters.

”How was the flight?”

”Long and boring,” he answers. ”The judges are ready,” he informs me.

Without another word passed between my father and I, his guards return to unshackle him while we’re both led into the courtroom. Several quiet moments pass by while we wait for the judges to return and render the verdict. Finally, the wait is over as they file into the room. Each one greets me as they take their seats beside me.



With a smack of the gavel…

”This court is now in session,” begins the lead judge. ”This military tribunal has reached a verdict on all counts as it pertains to deposed King of the Illuminatus State, Sebastian Duke.

“On count one of negligence in the matter of the Iraqi bombing, we the tribunal, find the defendant guilty as charged.

“On count two of mass murder in the matter of the Iraqi bombing, we the tribunal, find the defendant guilty as charged.

“On count three of conspiracy to commit regicide in the matter of our Queen, Caitlyn Duke, we the tribunal find the defendant guilty as charged.

“On count four of regicide in the matter of our Queen, Caitlyn Duke, we the tribunal, find the defendant guilty as charged.

“On fifth and final count of treason in the matter of all other counts, we the tribunal, find the defendant guilty as charged.”

At once, I feel all eyes on me. Guilty on all counts which, really wasn’t any surprise. A lot has been made between my father and I over the years. We hardly ever saw eye to eye. We rarely got along. Those few moments we did, those I’ll carry with me for the rest of my days or as long as my memory holds up.

”Sebastian Duke,” I say as I stand to my feet. I can feel the tears in my eyes and the emotion escaping from deep within my body. My very soul shakes in the moment. ”Please rise,” I instruct him.

Shackled at the ankle and cuffed at the wrist, he stands to his feet as ordered. The once mighty 6 foot 9 near 300 pound tower of power is small today. No longer does he reign over professional wrestling pretending to be the dominant force that he never [i]truly was. He doesn’t stand before this court as an imposing figure, but a career coward. He does however, stand as the father of greatness.

I know what I am.

People call it arrogance.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

”This tribunal has found you guilty on all counts,” I begin as the emotion continues to build inside of me. ”Do you have anything to say before I hand down your sentence?”

”No,” he replies.

It takes me a moment to get myself under control.

”Sebastian Duke,” I begin as tears start to fall from my eyes. This is so much harder than I thought it’d be. As much as I detest the man… he’s still my father. ”As King of the Illuminatus State and your crimes against that state, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging.”

As soon as I utter the last syllable, I fall to my knees and let out the hurt, the sorrow, and the frustration that has built up in me for several years. Nothing I do will ever bring my mother back. But at long last, she’ll have justice.

”Thad!?” he pleads as he’s lead outside to the gallows.

Being consoled by my Chief of Staff for a few moments, I compose myself and head outside to the gallows. By the time I get there, the noose is already around his neck and the hood is placed over his head. The yard is silent. So much grief and death and war has been caused by this man, yet the onlookers that have suffered all of it right along with me are deadly quiet.

Standing in front of him, I reach up and pull the hood off his head.

”Do you have any last words?” I ask of him. Still, the emotion deep within threatens to explode from my body.

”I’m sorry Thad,” he says. ”I can’t take any of it back. You deserved better than me. You needed better than me. I failed you in every possible way.”

”This isn’t easy for me,” I admit to him while choking it back. ”Aside from my kids, you’re the only family I have left.”

”I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he replies, for once in his life choking back his own emotion.

”I wish it hadn’t,” I reply honestly. ”But my mother deserves justice. Those children deserve justice. And to be honest, I deserve justice too.”

Through four wars, not once have I struck a civilian target. I can’t say a civilian has never died on my watch, because there have been. It happens in every war ever. In every modern American war the media and the politicians always beat the drum of freedom. And all of it is a lie. Wars haven’t been about freedom since the end of World War Two. I didn’t start these conflicts, but I sure as hell had to finish them. The lives of the people depending on me dictated that much. Now that the wars are over, they are truly a free people. And I will never apologize for that.

”Your are my son,” he cuts into my thoughts. ”From tip to tail you have my blood in yours. I know I didn’t say it or show it nearly enough. I know what’s coming in a few seconds.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I always have.”

”I love you too dad,” I say to him as tears fall from both our eyes. ”I wish I’d been a better son.”

He nods at me once, then stands straight forward and closes his eyes. I look at him a moment as the guard replaces the hood over his head. Stepping with a turn to my right, I look at the lever. A second or two goes by and I kick it with my foot and start to walk away. The floor beneath my fathers feet gives way and he plunges several feet. His neck snaps with a sickening crack and Sebastian Duke is dead instantly.



I didn’t watch him fall. I couldn’t. Walking through the sea of people watching everything unfold, several try to stop me in order to express their gratitude, or their love and support, condolences, whatever the case is. Instead, I just shrug them off and keep on walking. He was a great many things, but at the end of the day, he was still my father. The end of his life signals the end of an era.

But with every end, comes a new beginning.

---

Thad hits ‘play’ on the Dolly Waters promo. With his hood up over his head in a darkened room and his face barely lit by the glow from the screen, he sits watching intently. Every now and again as he watch the toddler version of one of his closest friends, he smiles.

Later in the promo, he stumbles onto a little Easter egg and the smile fades from his face. He hits pause as a tear runs down his cheek.

Then.

Now.

Forever.

The Continuum callback. While Dolly Waters was never an official member of the Continuum contingent, she was 100% woven into its fabric. With such close personal relationships with its three pieces, it was impossible for her to not be a part of it.

Despite its short run, Continuum was special. Whether they’ll admit it or not, all three four of them know it in their heart.

Tell me how you really feel Dolly, he begins with a sniffle. It doesn’t bother me that you’ve gone out of your way to low blow me at every possible turn. It doesn’t bother me that you, my friend, are using my personal life against me. It doesn’t bother me that you’re using my manwhoring against me.

It bothers me a little… that you’d get so personal. It bothers me a little, that you’d think in your mind and if you don’t really think it, you’re at least saying it out loud, that my relationship with you was ever about getting in your pants. Yes I love you. You’ve admitted that you love me too, but you couldn’t just leave it there could you? No, you gotta try and paint me as a sociopath while tryna score those clicks and views suggesting that my friendship with you, my love for you, was anything but pure.

Anything and everything I’ve ever done for you was because I loved you and nothing more.

After all, it is what you’re famous for isn’t it? You’ve made a career out of going to places you didn’t need to go. You’ve made a career out of going low where other people with a conscience and some semblance of actual creativity might aim a little higher. I really don’t know why I expected better out of you, but I did. Not once in your career have you ever thought about the repercussions of your actions and now, I’mma give it to you. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend to tear you down. I’m not gonna sit here and act like you ain’t shit like you are to me.

Go on then Dolly.

Tear me down.

Pretend that Thaddeus Duke ain’t shit while simultaneously calling this the biggest match of your entire career. Because it surely can’t be both.

I know what I am, Dolly Waters. I know what it is I bring to the table on any given night and aside from you inspiring me to jump start my career earlier than I intended, you’ve had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.

This little house of cards you thought you built in an attempt to tear me down is about to collapse on your head because yeah, you’ve proved time and again that you can only take so much heat. You can only take so much work. You can only take so much of a good thing before you wilt, before you fold like you always do.

See, I don’t need to bring up the obvious. I don’t need to bring up all those points that you tried to preemptively use in order to negate my verbal offense. Everyone that knows Dolly Waters knows exactly what they’re getting… for six months at a time.

Why do I need to tell everyone what they already know? Why do you need to tell everyone what they already know? It’s to try and score those fan awarded brownie points because you just ain’t got it anywhere else in your promos. I don’t need ‘em… you obviously do.

This…

This is exactly why I wouldn’t do this match previously. It had nothing to do with fear so stop trying to inflate your own ego at my expense. I’ve survived fucking plane crashes and you really wanna make people believe I’m afraid of a five foot nothin’ hundred and nothin’ pound little girl? Jesus FUCK get over yourself. I wasn’t willing to do this match because you get personal and that’s something I never wanted… not with you. You can’t help yourself on personal attacks and I thought, with me heading out the door, the sentimentality would creep into you just a little bit… but you proved me wrong.

I guess there’s a first time for everything.

You legit just sat there calling me a gatekeeper while pointing out the handful of new stars starting to make their name in the XWF. Either you want me to be a gatekeeper in the XWF or you don’t, but you can’t have that both ways ether.

Get over yourself Dolly Waters.

Stop being the walking talking contradiction that you’ve always been. It makes you look like a fucking idiot when in one breath you say one thing, then in the next say the exact opposite. There’s just two examples I’ve pointed out.

By the way, good job taking Chris Page’s game of putting himself over at the expense of your partner back on Warfare. He’d be so proud.

Yes, I am leaving the XWF. I’m going to do some things elsewhere in this industry and no amount of ‘I’m really mad at you for leaving so I’mma say really mean stuff that I don’t actually mean but I really want you to stay’ is gonna get me to change my mind.

I’ve been through everyone that’s meant anything to this company and no, I have no interest at this point in time in doing it all over again. I’ve won, I’ve lost, I’ve had a draw or two… and I’m proud enough of my body of work that I can put it on the shelf only to dust it off again when the time is right to do it.

I owe you nothing.

I owe no one any explanations as to why I’ve chosen to depart my home, though I’ve offered them.

I owe it to myself to do whatever the hell I want whether you like it or not. I’ve put my body through absolute hell and I deserve to do what the fuck I want. Your approval is not and will not ever be required.

Time’s almost up Dolly. I’ll be walking out the door for awhile but what you need to realize, and you need to do it quickly, is that I’m taking a piece of you with me.

---