My Messenger walks into the library. He stops as both I and Asmodeus stare at him.



MESSENGER: “I sense tension. What did I miss?”

ASMODEUS: “Who's bright idea was it to bring the Brotherhood name into Sebastians wrestling career!?”



My Messenger takes a seat in the chair near me. A small end table is all that separates us.



MESSENGER: “Father, it was mine.”

ASMODEUS: “I should have known. I mean, Sebastian, until recently, wouldn't even open his mouth let alone conjure up something such as this!

“You've got to be kidding me right now! What makes you think you have any business entering his wrestling world to begin with? Have you completely lost your mind? You're not big enough to handle your own against 90 percent of the men that compete there!”

MESSENGER: “I beg your pardon, Father, but I have handled my own quite well. . Madison. Arzegotti. They've all felt my presence in one form or another.”

ASMODEUS: “And when things don't turn out well? One day when this “Brotherhood” is taken down a peg by the Black Circle! What then?”

MESSENGER: “We'll regroup, just like the Illuminatus would. We'll come back stronger, just like the Illuminatus would. We'll hit back harder, just like the Illuminatus would. Ultimately, Father Asmodeus, we'll win, just like the Illuminatus would.”

ASMODEUS: “Tell me, “Mister Messenger,” what in the devils name made you think it was a good fucking idea to get yourself involved with this shit!?”



I think even the Messenger is taken aback by Asmo's demeanor. As I told you, he rarely ever raises his voice and curses even less.



MESSENGER: “You gave me the authority! I remember it quite well! Do you!?”

ASMODEUS: “What are you talking about?”

MESSENGER: “Are you playing stupid? Or are you getting forgetful at your old age!?”



Now I need to interject. No one talks to my father this way.



SEBASTIAN DUKE: “You need to calm yourself before you say something you're going to regret, Jacob! No one talk to him that way! I don't and neither will you! Understood!?”



Shit. I just called the Messenger by his real name.



MESSENGER: “My apologies.”

ASMODEUS: “Accepted, but I really don't know what you are referring to.”

MESSENGER: “Then I'll remind you. May 25. You had a bad feeling. So did I. We talked. Initially you refused. Eventually you gave in to my request to take some of the Brotherhood and fly to Vegas. Do you remember now?”



Asmodeus sits back in the sofa. He says absolutely nothing.



MESSENGER: “How about the call you placed to me just before we landed? You told me what happened. How Madison hit your son in the head with a shovel and buried him alive.”

ASMODEUS: “I remember.”

MESSENGER: “With all due respect, Father, you can climb back down off of your high horse! You know and I know what needed to be done! No one betrays the Brotherhood of the Illuminatus and gets away with it.

“We could ask Jonathan what its like when the Brotherhood rains down on you with all the might and power we have, but, where is he, Father? Oh, that's right! He's six feet under! Nothing more then a rotting fucking corpse!

“We are sworn above all else to protect the Grand Master of the Brotherhood of the Illuminatus and THAT is exactly what I did. And exactly what I continued to do while he was healing!

“And I'll continue to do it in the future!”



Silence. No more yelling. No more arguing. Just myself, my Messenger, my father reflected on the heated moment we all just had. I stand and pace a little bit in the vacant area between the chair my Messenger sits in and the sofa my father sits in.



SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Asmodeus, the Brotherhood is coming to the XWF. In name only. Jacob is the only one from the Illuminatus that will get involved. If others try, they'll be disciplined severely. Is that good enough for you?”

ASMODEUS: “I suppose it'll have to be.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Good. That settles it.”

ASMODEUS: “Just who do you have in mind that is going to join this Brotherhood?”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Right now, I have four others under agreement.”

ASMODEUS: “Four!?”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I don't really recall stuttering. Did I stutter?”

MESSENGER: “No, I heard you fine. You said four.”

ASMODEUS: “Funny. Real funny. Who are these four?”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I can't tell you them all. One is Peter Gilmour.”

ASMODEUS: “Peter Gilmour!?”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I didn't stu...”

ASMODEUS: “Right, right. You didn't stutter.”

MESSENGER: “I think he's a solid addition, Father.”

ASMODEUS: “I don't doubt that, but he's been in a totally different universe than you, Sebastian. What is it you like about him?”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “He's a fighter. Win or lose, he continues to fight hard.”

ASMODEUS: “He's the butt of a lot of jokes. I've heard them.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “That makes no difference to me. At the end of the day, he'll have my back. That's all I need.”

MESSENGER: “He also hates John Madison maybe just as much as you.”



The mere mention of the name John Madison makes me want to vomit in my mouth.



ASMODEUS: “So, Mr. Gilmour is in the Brotherhood. I would never have expected that.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “He has his faults, like anybody else. The fact remains, he'll have my back, and the entirety of the Brotherhood will have his. He needs us. We need him. He's very much a logical choice.”



I stroll over to the wall and stare out the window toward the lush and fertile lawn. The hallowed grounds of the Compound. Hundred upon hundreds, maybe even thousands of Revolutionary soldiers rest peacefully beneath my land. Knowing this, for reasons I can't explain, gives me peace of mind. The ability to think clearly.



ASMODEUS: “Who else?”



I'm lost in thought at the moment. I heard what he asked, but I either didn't or couldn't find the words to answer him.



ASMODEUS: “Well?”

MESSENGER: “Griffin MacAlister.”

ASMODEUS: “Ahh! Silas!”



They talk amongst themselves about Silas. Griffin MacAlister. Nick Donnelly. All of them. While I have vivid memories running through my head of the man himself.


To Be Continued...