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Thaddeus Duke · (02-16-2021)

Illuminatus Compound || Old Saybrook, Connecticut || 10:42 AM

Beneath the Compound rests a once vacant room. Not far from the ancient cells used in the buildings past life as a fort during the American Revolution. Once again used for enemy prisoners of war. With no windows and two doors: one exit door which leads to a dark and damp hallway that eventually leads upstairs to the main building, and a second, that leads to a far more different kind of room with devices designed to… well… coax information from those that are reluctant to give it. Neither have I used that room nor have I wanted to… until now at least as it pertains to the latter of those thoughts.

Will today be the day that I put my grandfathers “devices” to use for the first time in nearly a decade? Maybe, but only he can decide that fate. If the man known as Brad Wallace is willing to give me information I seek then he can spare himself some unimaginable pain. Choosing otherwise, well, make no fucking mistake, I will use whatever is at my disposal. The hijacking of my aircraft was far too close for comfort and this man put Frankie’s life in jeopardy. His actions, and those of his Ares Project brothers, forced Frankie to do and to see things he’s just not equipped to handle at such a young age.

I forgive nothing and I never will. Not when it comes to that child.

With a stainless steel table bolted to the floor, Brad sits in a chair, chained and shackled to steel rings both attached to the table and to the floor below him. Our shadows dance on the stone block wall beside us. With no electricity in this part of the cellar, the only light is from a couple torches mounted to the wall. Having never used these rooms on my own before much less having ever seen them in use, but clearly knowing of their existence, I never knew the awesome power that simple aesthetics can have. To be a man trapped in a building with a thousand enemies, shoved into the eternal blackness of this hellscape with no light but what I choose to give him when I choose to give it has to have an effect, right?

Sitting across from him, we’ve reached a bit of an impasse. He’s not really giving me much information and he has to know some god damn thing. McGovern is a fucking tool to be sure but he wouldn’t trust such a delicate operation to just anyone. I sure as shit wouldn’t if I were in his position.

”I’ll ask you again Brad,” I resume my questioning. ”How is it that the Ares Project was able to infiltrate my protection detail?”

”I already told you,” he replies wearily. ”Your security teams are in disarray. They’re over extended. You have them bouncing around all over the world. With you. With the boy. With the woman. That was easy.”

”I didn’t ask you what you thought of my agents and their methods!” I shout out angrily, pounding my fists upon the table, causing him to jump back a little.

”You have the answer already!” he shouts out in response. ”You’re just refusing to listen to what the hell it is that I’m telling you!”

Scooting my chair out from beneath me, I stand up and start pacing back and forth. Stroking what little bit of stubble I have on my unshaven chin I deliberate in my head how to get a straight answer from him. He’s been willing to talk, but unwilling to give me straight answers that I don’t have to draw my own conclusions on. Finally I grab a torch from the wall and make my way to Brad who stares up at me with a worried look on his face. In all fairness, I don’t much like what I’m about to do, but I’ve had just about enough of trying to decipher his riddles.

Slowly, I bring the torch down toward his face. I know he can feel its heat because I can feel it too. Every so often, a small piece of burning material falls from the torch and hits the dirt floor. Grabbing him by his hair, I torque his neck backwards and he grunts his displeasure. Bringing the torch over his face, a little piece falls off, landing on his cheek just below his right eye. He yelps out in pain as the room smells for a moment of burned flesh.

”If you think this gets better Brad, clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” I yell at him as another piece from the torch falls off, landing right on the tip of his nose. Again he yelps out in pain.

”Sam got on the plane disguised as a ramp attendant!” he yells out finally. In response, I pull back the torch.

”Who’s Sam?”

”The guy you put that fucking blade through after we landed,” he answers quickly and I let go of his hair. ”He entered through the cargo bay and just waited in the limo until he got the green light from me. He had a pilots disguise with him and we thought he’d be able to sneak by pretty much unnoticed if I was able to distract the security detail. They thought I was one of them so it really was easy.”

”Now how did you get inside Frankie’s detail?” I ask him as I let go of his hair and lean against the edge of the table.

”We had the benefit of knowing you while you didn’t know us,” he begins to explain. ”I told you your details are overextended and I meant that. There’s overlap and turnover so we thought it’d be pretty damn easy to lie our way in and that’s what we did. The story I told you at JFK was the truth. At least partially.

“That’s the same story I told anyone that asked and you were suspicious but no one else was. We assumed that they’d have seen so many different faces that if you saw one, you saw them all and we were right. When one of your guys took the limo before leaving to get fueled, I was at the gas station and simply sat in the back when he went inside to use the latrine.”

Well this is concerning.

”When he drove back here to pick up the boy, I just sat in the car and waited until the eyes were pointed in other directions and just got out of the car and pretended I knew what the hell I was doing.”

”It was that easy?” I question aloud, mostly to myself. He nods in response regardless. Right after, a knock comes from the other side of the door and Jim opens up the door, stepping just inside. ”What is it?”

”Senator Reed mate,” he answers me.

”I’m a little busy here Jim, see if I can call him back.”

”He’s here in person,” he replies back.”

”Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve been wanting to meet with the Senator for quite awhile now, but now just isn’t the right time. I’m thoroughly pissed off and I can blow up any goodwill I have earned from the United States government by simply being myself in this heated state.

”Have the guards take him back to his cell,” I instruct Jim as I head toward the door. ”He was a good boy today, get him some cortisone for his face and give him another blanket. It’s fucking cold down here.”

”Right mate he’s in your office,” he says as I pass by him and head upstairs.

Making my way hastily toward my office- again it’s not really an office so much as a place I use to wind down and watch TV- I pass by my Intel Chief Lincoln Tritter. He tries to grab my attention but I ingnore him.

”Not now Linc, in a bit,” I inform him as I blow by him. Senator Jack Reed of Rhode Island is the Chairman of the Armed Services Committee and this is our first face to face meeting. Previously, I’ve spoken to him on the phone twice, but briefly. He stands near the wall with one of my TV remotes, watching news reels of the hijacking of my plane.

”Came out of it a hero,” he says, not looking at me, just staring at the footage.

”I’d hardly consider it heroic,” I inform him as I approach. ”I just did what anyone would do when their sons life is in danger."

After switching off the television he extends his hand to me with a warm smile. ”It’s nice to meet you Mr. Duke.”

Accepting his handshake I return the gesture. ”Yeah same,” I say a little less enthusiastic than I intended. I’ve met with these committee chairmen time and again and I just get the short end of the stick every time so I don’t really assume this will be any different. ”Just call me Thad, Senator. Or Thaddeus, if you prefer something slightly more formal,” I say as I offer him a seat on the sofa.

Now sitting on the sofa, he looks around at the different things I have in the room. Different newspaper articles documenting my success in diplomacy and wartime alike. Magazine covers for some shoots I’ve done through my wrestling career. My trophy case itself containing every championship belt I’ve ever won.

”Are you sure you’re only 21 years old?” he asks a little facetiously as he gazes all the different items of interest.

”22 actually.”

”You are quite the accomplished young man aren’t you?” he asks as he turns his head to look at me.

”I guess so,” I answer him as he stands up and approaches the wall, taking closer looks at the different items.

”It seems that you’re rather ambitious, you seems to accomplish whatever goals you set your mind to don’t you?” he asks as he approaches my trophy case.

”For the most part,” I answer him.

”Wrestling,” he muses aloud as he takes a once over of the different titles lying in full display within the cabinet. ”Seems you’re quite accomplished in that world too.”

He averts his eyes from the trophy case and returns to sit on the sofa.

”If there was an idea you wanted to destroy, you destroyed it. If a nation needed conquered, you conquered it. If there was title you wanted, you won it. Whatever you want, you do.

“Except destroy the Ares Project.”

Twist the fucking knife why don’t you Senator?

”Word around the corridors of Washington would indicate you have one of theirs here?” he suggests.

”I do,” I readily admit. ”And I won’t be giving him up.”

”It’s not our war, its yours,” he informs me. ”I’ve been fully briefed on some things and now Thaddeus if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to tell me what it is you expect from me. I’d like to know what it is that you really want from the United States government."

I just get the feeling he wants me to kiss his ass and to be quite honest, I’ve had enough of the run around from that god damn government.

”Look Senator,” I begin as I stand up from the sofa. ”I don’t give a fuck what you can or can not do for me. These god damn people have been murdering mine for three fucking years and I’m quite honestly sick to fucking death of you and your government always saying you can help just to pull the rug out from under me.

“If you came here for an ass kissing Mr. Reed, then you’ve wasted your time because whether I have support of the United States government or not, my gloves are coming off and I no longer give a shit whether the Ares Project operates on U.S. soil or not! The fact is, when the time is right and my plans are made, I’m going to hit these mother fuckers with every god damn thing I got and if you think that the thought of military intervention from the United States is going to stop me anymore then…

“Well Senator…

“You’re dead fucking wrong, because I’m done wasting my time trying to get any kind of aid from your government. Either the Ares Project kills me or the U.S. military does but the one thing that I know for sure, is I’m done not fighting back simply because of where they base their operations from.

“It’s a far fucking cry from 9/11 wouldn’t you say Senator?” I ask rhetorically.

Senator Reed looks at me a bit perplexed as he stands up and grabs his briefcase sitting on the end table beside him.

”I mean your government goes from killing terrorists, to harboring their own homegrown ones.”

”That’s the fire I wanted to see,” he says with a bit of a smile as he opens his briefcase and hands me a folder from within it.

”What’s this?” I ask him without opening it.

”Cart Blanche,” he answers. ”That’s what you’ve been looking for, for three years Thaddeus. First, is the American government formally recognizing your independent statehood and the second… In light of the Ares Project attack on your base in Germany which had been omitted from the files during the waning days of the previous administration, the current President has decided to include them and by the power of his pen has declared the Ares Project as an international terrorism outfit which, my friend, gives you the freedom to hit them wherever they are.

“Here.

“Abroad.

“Or on the god damn moon, son.”

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

”Now the President won’t authorize military intervention at this point in time, but Thaddeus, he’s willing to help you in any other way he can. That said Thaddeus, on behalf of the Government of the United States of America, please accept our condolences for your losses. Please accept our apologies for being unable, or as the case may be, unwilling to take this step in the past and let’s hope for a more positive relationship and hopefully a more mutually beneficial one between our two nations,” he concludes with a smile and an extended hand.

I readily and happily accept this mans gesture. Honestly I can’t stop myself from smiling because not only are the gloves off… so are the chains.

”What do you want in return?” I ask, just expecting there to be some other shoe that needs to drop. Favors are never given without something in return, at least not in my experience the last five years in dealing with other governments.

”Not a god damn thing son,” he replies as I walk him to my office door. ”And uhhh… if you don’t mind my saying. Off the record of course...”

”Of course Senator,” I nod, genuinely interested in what he has to say.

”I’m a former airman myself Thaddeus,” he begins before leaning in. ”Rain fire on the mother fuckers will ya?” he concludes with a military salute. Naturally, I return the gesture as Reed departs my office.

”We need to talk boss,” Tritter says as I attempt to step into the main hallway.

”Thad!” Liz calls out as she rushes toward me from the staircase near the front entrance.

”In a sec Linc,” I tell him before turning my attention to Liz. ”What is it?”

”You need to get going,” she informs me. ”You have a meeting with Frankie’s principal in less than an hour.”

”Shit,” I say as I glance at my watch. ”Alright, Babe do me a favor and get his ass moving and into the car. I need to talk to Lincoln for a minute.”

”But...”

”No for gods sake not right now! Please, I’ve had a busy ass day already and I really need to get this one done so if you could please just help a homie out and get him in the damn car.”

”A homie?” she questions with a smile.

”Yes.”

”Be happy I love you,” she says as she walks away.

”I am!” I shout back toward her before returning my attention to Tritter. ”Now what is it?”

He pushes me back inside my office and closes the door. I almost forgot about the file in my hand and momentarily decide to open it and look at the page kept within. Just as Senator Reed promised, copies of the signed documents granting me “Cart Blanche” in his words.

”Before you tell me whatever it is you need to tell me, take a look at this,” I say with a big ass grin on my face as I slap the folder against Tritter’s barrel chest.

”What’s this?” he asks as he opens the folder.

”We did it man,” I inform him. ”Reed gave me that. Signed by the President. The Ares Project is officially designated international terrorism. And better still, the chains are off man. We can hit them with everything we got no matter where they decide to hide.”

”That’s good news,” he says quietly. To be honest I’m a little put off by his uncaring demeanor. ”Sit down Thad,” he advises me.

”Wait, Linc, this is good news! We’ve been waiting for this and...”

”Sit man,” he advises again and it occurs to me that he’s not uncaring about the recent development, he’s just got something else on his mind.

”Lincoln what’s up?” I ask him as I relent to his advisement and take a seat.

”A couple weeks ago you wanted me to obtain Jim’s medical records,” he says to me and its the first I noticed he had a file of his own in his hands. ”We broke the encryption about an hour ago,” Lincoln informs me as he hands me the file.

Just then, the topic of discussion opens the door.

”Mate, Liz wants...”

Before he could finish, Lincoln politely shoves him out of the room and closes the door. Nervously and with a great amount of hesitation I open the file and start glancing it over.

”Shit,” I mutter to myself as I hit on key words. Lung cancer. Stage. Prognosis. Declined treatment. ”He’s terminal,” again I mutter to myself. I can’t help it and I’m not sure I would’ve stopped myself if I could, but I just found out my best friend is dying and that’s kind of hard for anyone to hold back emotions.

”I didn’t read them thoroughly Thad,” says the normally stoic Tritter as he sheds a tear of his own. ”But you’re looking at eight months at best.”

”Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I ask of him, as if he’d actually know.

”You have a lot in front of you Thaddeus,” he answers back. ”I’ve gotten to know the boy pretty well. If I were to guess, I’d say he probably didn’t want to pile on with what he would perceive as his own problem.”

”Linc I can’t deal with this right now,” I say to him as I stand up. Folding the folder in half and placing it in the back pocket of my jeans I blow passed Tritter and open the door to the hallways where Jim is still waiting.

”What was all that about?” Jim asks as I hesitate once I see him, then continue on my way toward the garage.

”It’s nothing, I was just updating him on...”

”The meeting with the Senator?” he asks, interrupting me as he walks alongside me. ”How’d that go?”

”Jim we’ll talk about it later,” I say to him, unable to look at him for the time being.

”Right but you got a minute to tell me,” he insists.

I stop in my tracks and look him in the eye. ”NO JIM, I DON’T!” I lash out at him before walking away toward the garage. Entirely unfairly to be honest. Not only has he been lying to me, but for some god damn reason… he thought his life wasn’t important enough to “bother” me with his problems.

My best friend is dying and I am powerless to stop it. Moreover, I don’t know how to deal with it.

Of all the things you could say to me, or about me. Of all the hundreds of different things you could pick out, you get all whiny and bitchy because I made fun of your name? Marf… your name is Marf. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT FROM PEOPLE!?

Thad laughs. Almost cry laughing.

You can’t walk into this business with a name like Marf and not expect everyone and their mother to laugh uncontrollably at that ridiculous god damn name! Look, I know you didn’t name yourself. I know your parents probably regretted having you so that’s why they gave you a ridiculous first name but C’MON MAN! If you’re gonna have such a stupid name, maybe don’t use it in your professional life. And since you do, you can’t really sit there and pout because everyone makes fun of you.

You’re right though in the grand scheme of things, Marf. Your name doesn’t matter. It never has and maybe it never really will. But as long as you’re here you can sit in acceptance of what and who you truly are: the guy playing second fiddle to virtually everyone else on the roster. And you certainly play second fiddle to the Blue Woman because if it wasn’t for her, do you really think you’d have found your way into a match competing for my tag team titles on a major pay per view event? In the history of tag teams that will eventually die out and one half of that team goes on to do big things and the other just is kind of around for a bit and then disappears and no one remembers until like three months later when some shmo is sitting around a room with a bunch of other shmo’s and is like “hey, whatever happened to Marf?”

You’re the Marty to her Shawn.

Marfy.

You want to complain about me? You want to sit there and really make the argument that you expected better of me? That I’m somehow just like all the rest? Tell me Marfy… how quick did you raise the left hand… like all the others? He came after me, just like you. He asked me to raise the left hand, just like you. But the difference between you and I Marfy, is that I don’t need other to get myself...

Thad debates in his head a moment for clarity.

Fuck it. Over with the fans.

I never needed anyone’s help in growing my brand and my popularity. I did that on my own and yes, you’re stepping into the ring with the former Universal champ. That’s as close as you’ll ever get to sniffing the big gold Marfy because while I may think about me a lot, the fact is, no one thinks about you. And that’s on you and only you.

You spend so much time wondering if you could Marfy, but you haven’t really thought about if you should. My “elite” status isn’t alleged. Being alleged lends the possibility that it’s somehow false or unproven. My status as “elite” Marfy, is etched in stone for fucking eternity. I’m one of the best to grace a ring and that’s irrefutable. The matches I put on regardless of the opponent are five stars all the time because it’s just what I do. Whether I wear this belt or that one, whether I win this match or that one, and even if I fall short and come out the loser, the Universe gets their monies worth because I was on the show. There’s a reason my segments are rated highly, there’s a reason arenas sell out, there’s a reason my merchandise doesn’t stay in stock, there’s a reason my promos and matches are viewed over and over… because I’m exactly what I say I am… the fucking measuring stick and you my friend… just come up short. That said, I’ll be sure to make you look damn good in your losing effort because again, that’s something else I do. Look at Barney Green.

Another thing greatness is measured by, or “elite” as you so put it… Is does your presence in a match make others better for competing against you? Facing ole Marfy? Not so much. Now take a minute backstage at Warfare, go find Chris Page. Ask him off the record if facing Thaddeus Duke made him a better Chris Page and there’s no doubt in my mind that that answer is yes. For what it’s worth Marfy, I know that answer because that conversation has already been had.

Having said all of that Mr. Swayson, I’ll say you’re welcome now and not even require from you a public thank you. Or for that matter, even a private one. You will certainly lose this match Marf because I’m just too god damn good for you, but… at the end of the day… you’ll come out of this all the better for it.

You wanna talk the big game and walk the big walk and say you’re gonna ruin my pretty face and my Hollywood smile...

He laughs… smiles… because of course he does.

It’s flattering that you think I’m pretty, man. Truly. I mean, I have a hard time disagreeing but still, thanks man. But Marf… don’t threaten me with a good time. With the money I got, I’ll have it fixed by Friday like you were never here.

And that my friend, is the impression you’ll leave on the XWF and the Universe.

Like you were never even here.

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