With everything going on between Seb and I, I’ve been confronted by loss.  It feels like I’ve lost him as my friend forever and that has brought up old feelings.  Not depression, but mourning.  Darkness.  I am in no way special in terms of losing people I love, but it’d be nice if it isn’t always so fucking emotionally traumatic.

Murdered mother.

Friends taking bullets so you don’t have to.

Friends taking their own lives.

Friends… far too young… succumbing to cancer.

Imagine losing someone you love like a brother because you can’t see what’s right in front of you.  Because you can’t see that despite the unseriousness of what you’re doing, not everyone sees it the same way.  Hell, I may as well have walked up to him and pulled the trigger myself.  That’s a little dramatic, I know.  But that’s the way it feels.

Professionally, I’ve been brilliant.  I’ve had more legitimate success in the ring than most my age.  I’ve built an LFL powerhouse with the New York Pride.  I run an increasingly active production company in Lion’s Guard Entertainment.  Even my six month run as promotion owner netted me a ton of profit when I sold it.

Personally, it’s always a mess.  One after another.  Boyfriends, girlfriends, general lovers, my own god damn family.  It’s just never easy.

“How could you be so stupid?” I whispered to myself as I stared into the bathroom mirror.  The man looking back at me wasn’t the boy I remembered.  His features were starting to harden with his jawline even sharper than it had been just two years ago.  The man in the mirror had bulked up considerably with what seemed like muscles on top of other muscles.  His nose bumped and crooked from multiple breaks.  The skin tighter against his bones.  The locks upon his head still seemed to go every which way, and yet somehow remained perfect.  There was dark stubble on his chin and upper lip.  Largely, he remained as attractive as he’d ever been.

He was different now.

But still so much the same.

As good a man as he tried to be, he was still marked with deep flaws.  No matter how much he’s grown, no matter how much he’s learned, it just wasn’t ever good enough.  He still found ways to torpedo his most prominent relationships.  He still found ways to hurt those he loves.

“Why didn’t he know we were never serious?” I asked aloud to myself in the mirror.  For a moment, I almost expected my reflection to answer.  “I really thought he was in on the joke.”

A tear fell from my eye.  I could feel it rolling down my cheek.  In the mirror, there was no tear.

“How can you be this fucking brilliant!?” I asked myself angrily.  “And still be so fucking stupid!?”

Mirror Thaddeus still doesn’t answer me.  Reaching into the drawer beneath the counter, I pull out the clippers.  Switching them on, I stop and feel the vibration reverberating through my fingers before looking myself in the eyes.

“I don’t like you very much,” I said to him.  Adjusting the clippers position, I take a swipe from my hairline to the back of my head and watch as the curls fall over my shoulder or down my chest.  In just a few minutes, I buzzed my hair off close to the scalp and switched off the clippers.

“That was your best friend,” I say to myself in the mirror.  “He pined over Sloane for years until he finally won her heart and you took advantage of his insecurity.”

Mirrored Thaddeus again says nothing.

“I didn’t know he was insecure,” I defended myself from myself.  “I didn’t know he wasn’t putting on an act.  I didn’t know he was afraid!  I DIDN’T!  FUCKING!  KNOW!”

Mirrored Thaddeus mimics my movement like Rhianna lip syncing at the Super Bowl.  At once, I threw a punch at the man in the mirror.  The reflective glass cracked and webbed around my fist.  Pieces fell from the wall into the sink.  Looking at my hand, blood trickled from my knuckles.  It hung on as long as it could and I watched the first drop fall and land on the counter.  Then a few more until it started to pool on the surface.

Turning the faucet on, I dip my head beneath the running water, rinsing the little bits of hair from my head then the blood from my knuckles.  Shutting off the water, I run a towel over my head and face.  When I lower it, the busted mirror is suddenly whole again.  I was too confused to be apprehensive or anxious.  Instead, I just stared into my reflection with a puzzled expression.

‘Did I imagine all that?’ I thought to myself.

Mirrored Thaddeus smiled back at me.  Instinctively, I ran my fingers along my face to check if I had been smiling and I’m sure I wasn’t.

“Hello Young Duke,” mirrored me said.  It took a few seconds as I racked my head trying to place that familiar voice.


“Doc!?” I said with bewildered amazement.

“Expecting someone else?” he asked.

It was an otherworldly experience to say the least.  To see your own face using another man’s voice is… kind of mind blowing.  Louis D’Ville had been both my friend and my tormentor since almost the day my career began.  To this day I don’t know how it worked, but it did.  We were a formidable team and as much as it pains me to think it, he was right about one thing.  I had a soft spot for Corey Smith.  That soft spot cost us our tag team championships nearly two years ago.  Had I stuck with D’Ville, perhaps we’d still be champions today.  We were that fucking good.

“I um… I wasn’t expecting anyone at all actually,” I answered him.  “Why are you here?”

“Darkness called, Young Duke,” he replied.

“I’m not…” I began to protest but instead, I let my voice trail off.  “Would you call me Thaddeus?  Please?” I asked my old friend quietly.

“Is that still important to you?” he inquired with his smirk using my face which by itself is unsettling.

“Only from you Doc,” I answered him.  “I'm not sure why.”

“So be it Thaddeus,” he answered.

“Why are you really here?”

“You’ve said yourself that you’re still rusty, dear boy,” he answered me.

“It’s been awhile since I was regularly active,” I replied to the young man staring back at me in the mirror.  “I’m not myself yet.”

“Yes you are,” he insists as he takes a step forward and somehow out of the mirror.  Louis D’Ville in Thaddeus Duke’s body stands before me, live and in the flesh.  “You just don’t know it yet.  You concern yourself too much with cosmetics.  You worry that by sitting on your can for the last eight months that you lost what makes you special.”

“No,” I argued with him… me.  “I have never lost what makes me special.  Guys like Page can check into the No Sell Motel and pretend I’m less than what I am now that I’m of no use to him.

“But I’ve never forgotten.  I know who I am, Doc.  I know what makes me difficult to beat.  I know what makes me one of the best to ever lace a pair of boots.  I know what it is that makes me… better.”

“Don’t tell me,” Doc says as he lays my hands on my shoulders.  “Tell Charlie.”

It’s strange.  He may look like me, but my eyes have his twinkle.  If you never knew Doc D’Ville, if you never spent significant time with him, you wouldn’t know the twinkle.  They always had this particular light in them anytime he was in the presence of someone he respected.  To be honest, I have no idea why he took a liking to me.  I wonder about it still.

Hello Charlie.

It’s almost fitting that its you and I heading into the second round of the tournament, isn’t it?  It seems no matter where I go, Charlie Nickles isn’t far behind always wanting a taste of the drip.  You’ve followed me around just hoping, praying that whatever it is I got that you’re missing, might just rub off.

I know.

You followed the Bastards to the “other town” as you so eloquently put it.  I got your message Charlie and far be it for me to ignore such an ominous threat.  I know what I asked you to do Charlie.  Who is it you think you’re talking to?  Who is that you think I am?  It’s like you’ve known me all this time and you never truly knew me at all.

Same old Charlie… you never learn a god damn thing.

That’s why I’m me, and you continue to be the same old Charlie Nickles.

Good, bad or indifferent Charlie, I have never hid from any damn thing I’ve done.  You did exactly what I asked you to do… like the good little soldier you are.  In this business as there is in war, there are commanders, and there are soldiers.

I said jump.

You said “can I jump even higher for you Mr. Duke?”

Always the bridesmaid and never the bride.  Always the hanger on.  Always the suckler at the teat of your betters.  Always the rider and never the driver.  Always the follower and never the leader.  You know your role Charlie, and you play it well.

That’s what sets us apart.  I have nothing against you.  You’re a despicable piece of shit human being but you wear that like a badge of honor and Charlie, while that’s not the way I live my life on a regular basis, I can certainly respect that.  You are what you are and you don’t give a damn who likes it and who doesn’t.

Kind of relatable.

But here, our relatability dies.

I found ‘it’ a long time ago and here you are going on your third year in the XWF and you still can’t figure out how to break through the proverbial glass ceiling.  You still can’t figure out how to reach the next rung on the ladder.  You still can’t figure out a way to get over the hump.

I remember your impressive debut.  I remember you shooting out of the starting gate like you were Usain Bolt.  I remember watching Sarah bitchslap you down and what happened?  You never recovered.  You were rocketing over the competition but what they know and you don’t, is how to change for the better, not changing for the sake of change.  Right Demos?  Right Dimes?

Instead of being the leader of the new generation of XWF’ers, you resigned to follow the pack and pick up the scraps someone else left for you.  And that has been your story ever since.

You started out in the “other city” much the same way.  Here comes Charlie bursting onto the scene.  They’ve never seen an edgelord quite the way Charlie does edgy and he skyrockets to stardom again and claims gold.

Good on you man.

I bet you were lickin’ your chops when you read that card posting and saw my wife's name across from yours.  You finally had the chance to do what you couldn’t before and beat a relevant Duke.

Except that didn’t happen.  Another Duke win and another Nickles loss.  And the wheels started fallin’ off all over again.

It’ll be fun, Charlie.  To watch you line up across the ring from a Duke once more and eat yet another loss.  It seems to be a staple of your legacy of meh.  Face a Duke, stare at the lights.  At least there’s no shame in it, right?  Hell its almost a tradition at this point.

Duke wins.

Charlie loses.

Hell, maybe you’ll get lucky.  I’m just stretching my legs.