Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Thaddeus Duke · (12-24-2016)

Wednesday, December 14, 2016 | 8:02 PM Local Time | The Papal Apartments | Vatican City

It has just been a few days since Wild Card Weekend. Saturday night, our hero, Thaddeus Duke took his first loss as a professional, succumbing to defeat at the hands of Doctor Louis D’Ville. Though a loss in the books, a pin or submission never occurred leaving in asterisk in many minds. Not Thaddeus. He’s taken his loss in stride. The pain though, of a rough landing with fire kissing his skin is pretty unbearable. The young lad is proud of his wounds though. Its the first time he’s had any real threat to his standing within the halls of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. He fought and fought hard. He lost. He was injured, as any man would be.

The blond haired and blue eyed Thaddeus Duke lays asleep in his bed. The room is still decorated with ancient and ornate Catholic inspired portraits and crucifixes. A very well done painting of Pope John Paul the second hangs upon the wall facing the foot of the young mans bed. If this were a Gabe Reno promo, you’d probably see a picture of that soon.

Such radical thinking.

A light knock comes from the outside of the door before it opens. James Edwards, Thaddeus’ friend, right hand, and the supreme leader of his security detail enters the room. James looks at the sleeping almost-man and walks quietly across the room, throwing open the curtains, allowing in the winter sunlight.

Cue more radical thinking and pointless pictures.

James looks over his shoulder at his friend, still asleep. The sun beams in through the windows, falling directly on the boys face. His eyes twitch beneath their lids momentarily before he finally opens them.

”What the hell are you doing in my room, Jim?” he asks through a sleep induced slur.

”You’ve slept long enough,” he says, turning around so that his entire body faces Thaddeus. ”Besides, you told me two hours. I let you go longer than that.”

Thaddeus rubs his eyes and sits up on the bed, completely numbed from his pain killer IV.

You know the drill. Cue the Radicalousness.

”How long have I been asleep?” he asks, still slurring his speech.

Jim looks at his wristwatch [cue a picture of a watch] and chuckles to himself before responding.

”What’s so funny?”

”You’ve been out for twenty-two hours.”

Thaddeus stares at James as if speechless. He then grabs his IV bag, [cue picture]. ”What the fuck is this shit?” He attempts to read the German writing on the label, but remembers he can neither speak nor read in German so he gives up.

”It’s experimental. It’s made from cannabis. Truly non addictive.

“How’s the pain?”

”I have no pain.”

”How do you feel?”

Thaddeus looks on with a perplexed look on his face.

”What is it?”

”I have no feeling,” Thaddeus states, as a matter of fact.

Now James is perplexed.

”I literally can’t feel a damn thing. Like, I can sense touch, [cue a picture of a man touching his own face], but I have no feeling.”

”I suppose that’s a good thing. I mean skin grafts aren’t particularly pain free, traditionally speaking.”

”They are now.”

Suddenly, the door opens and the Illuminatus King enters the room.

”Christ it's the King of Darkness. Spooky!”

James looks at the King, then at the Prince.

”Did I just say that out loud?”

James smiles and nods.

”Leave us.”

”Way to kill the buzz.”

James laughs a little.

”Out loud again?”

James nods and begins to exit. ”He’s higher than a kite. Don’t take anything personal,” James says to the King before exiting and closing the door behind him.

”Before you ask, I feel good. I’m numbed beyond numb.”

”I wasn’t going to ask,” the King retorts as he walks across the room and takes a seat in a chair near the window.

”Is that because you already knew, or is that because you just don’t give a damn?”

Probably what is being witnessed here, is Thaddeus Duke’s real thoughts coming out. Being under the influence of painkillers has inhibited his ability to filter what he says. He’s not one to back down from his father, but he knows his boundaries. He knows his father’s tipping point. The fine line between needling him, and slapping him in the face.

”What would make you think I don’t care?”

Thaddeus doesn’t answer right away. Presumably to at least attempt to reinstall the filter between his brain and his mouth. ”I don’t know. You have an odd way of showing you do at times.”

Sebastian Duke stands to his feet and looks out the window, looking down upon St. Peter’s Square. ”In what you call your ‘dream,’ those days of future past. Was I showing that I cared when I ventured into that rift to find you? Was I showing I cared when I chased after you when you went after King George? Was I showing that I cared when I beheaded that son of a bitch after he shot you?

“Or how about when awakened you from your… deep sleep?

“Or when I entrusted my military to you in the war?

“Tell me what exactly showing that I care, means to you.”

[Cue a picture a single tear. Awwww.]

Perhaps for the first time, Thaddeus doubts why he even holds animosity toward his father. The kid can’t look at him. He only stares down at his bare feet as he sits on the edge of his bed. The King sits beside him. For the first time in, who knows how long, [cue a calendar picture] Thaddeus looks up and looks his father in the eye.

”You need to know, that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There’s not a man, woman or child that I would not kill, in order to protect you.

“Whether you like it or not, you are my son and I do love you. You are the heir to the throne. And whether I like it or not, I have to agree with the Pope. One day, you’ll be a far better leader than I could ever hope to be. You’re a better man with a bigger heart than I. But you need to realize, that in our world, a big heart can land you in a lot of trouble.”

”I have compassion for those less fortunate, than I am father. Nothing more, nothing less. If you need some assurances as to whether or not I have the best interests of the Illuminatus in my mind, you only need to look at the fact that I lead your military to victory in not one, but two wars in under a year.

“And I’m not even 18.”

”You’re only as good as your last victory, Thaddeus.”

Instantly, Doctor D’Ville enters Thaddeus’ mind.

”Where do we stand on the Islamic State front?”

”I don’t have any idea.”

Sebastian Duke stands up and turns to face his son. ”Therein lies my point. You’ve been too busy playing Princess Di and being the good humanitarian that you’ve lost sight of your Illuminatus goals.”

”Imma get to it.”

”When?”

Thaddeus doesn’t answer, probably because he doesn’t have one yet.

”Your men love you. They respect you. They’re waiting for you to lead them again.

“Thaddeus, when you were in Detroit, you were supposed to be in Spain meeting your contact from the Catholic contingent.”

”Oh shit!” Thaddeus gasps as he lies back on the bed, pissed at himself for allowing a meeting of such importance to slip his mind.

”Our alliance with the Church is not ideal, not by a long shot. But for now, it’s necessary. And tell me Thaddeus, all that love and respect you bred through two wars, how much of that do you think will remain if you let the deaths of their brothers go unchecked and unpunished?”

Thaddeus stares at the ceiling.

”I’ve already talked to the Pope and rescheduled your rendezvous. I suggest you be on that plane. You are a good leader kid, but you have a lot to learn.”

Without another word, the Illuminatus King makes his exit. Moments later, ”JIM!” he shouts.

James re-enters the room. ”You rang?”

Thaddeus is up and grabbing some clothes and headed toward his shower.

”Uhh, Thad...”

Thaddeus ignores him. ”Gather the men in the Basilica.” Thaddeus then heads to the shower, pulling his IV line, obviously forgetting about it, as far as it’ll go before it rips from his arm. The Prince closes his bathroom door as the rubber line snaps back toward the bed.

”I guess he didn’t feel that either.”

"FUCK!" shouts the Prince from beyond the closed bathroom door. "I definitely felt that!"

"I tried to warn you!"

I have said time and again that a loss in this business is inevitable. I may be young but I’m smart enough to know that not everything will go your way all the time. I’d be remiss if I did not give credit where credit is due. That credit belongs to the good Doctor. I fought him hard. He fought me hard. I know it wasn’t an easy victory for him so he damn well earned his win.

It is obvious to me, that my showing against Doctor D’Ville is what Lane needed to see. He needed to see that I had what it took, win or lose, to go toe to toe with the best of the best. I stood tall and I took my lumps. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose and in this outing, I certainly was not victorious.

Somewhere down the line, I’m certain Doc and I will clash again. I’ve been to hell with him now once already. He may well send me to hell again too, because he really is just that good. What’s different, is next time, if Doc sends me to hell, I’m taking him with me.

Lane has now seen to it to right what I thought all along was a wrong, and finally dangle one of his fancy brass rings in front of my face and I’ll be damned if I don’t cash in on this opportunity. By Warfare, I’ll have had a full three weeks to recover from the burns and injuries I suffered. They’re injuries I wouldn’t really wish on my worst enemy, but here I am. Healing and moving on.

This Warfare is Redemption Wednesday. The Radical himself, Gaybe Reno is my opponent and good God almighty is he in for a fight he’ll never forget. Reno is a guy that specializes in losing. Just last week he lost to a man that I literally had zero trouble in defeating. Granted, Thomas Nixon is no slouch, but still, I defeated him and it wasn’t even close.

Yet Reno lost. He loses his Television title match and I’m sure he’ll say “ohhh I didn’t lose, I just didn’t win.” Yeah, sugar coat it however you like, the result is the same. Gabe Reno isn’t the Television champion.

Here’s your Thaddeus Duke title situation rant: The Radical Gabe Reno loses to Chris Chaos, falls asleep at the wheel and pulls out of Wild Card Weekend… speaking of pulling out, that’s probably what your father should have done. You should have been splattered all over your moms tits, but like Gilmour, I digress. Anyway… Loses to Chaos and is granted, for some reason, a shot at the Television title. He, for accuracy… doesn’t win that one, and ends up a contender to the Xtreme championship. Two plus two still equals eleven.

What the fuck is going on around here?

For the record, that’s another opportunity he’ll fail to win. End rant.

“Well Thaddeus, you lost too.” Yeah I did. Maybe I should feel sorry for myself and cry in a corner. Maybe I should withdraw all of my XWF bookings and go sulk and masturbate using my tears as lube. I would, but I’m neither a bitch nor am I a pussy.

Reno, you can’t be first, but you sure as hell are next.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Refocused - RP#1
Author	Message