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Thaddeus Duke · (04-14-2017)

Saturday, March 11, 2017 | 11:49 PM | The Omni William Penn Hotel | Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

We rejoin our magnanimous hero... sooouuuund it ouuuut... mag-naaaan-imouus... good. We rejoin our magnanimous hero not long after Lincoln Tritter made his presence known at the state police barracks back in Butler, PA. Thaddeus found himself in hot water with the law, and as a result, me too, over an ass grabbing encounter from some fool with a pickup truck and mouth full of chew spit. As his best friend, I'm mad. I'm mad because the idiot cops broke it up. I was really itching for a god damn fight. Do you people have any idea what its like to be me? I mean seriously. Spend 24 hours with the god damn Dukes of Saybrook and you'd be itching for a fight too...

I'm off topic...

Anyway, here's Thaddeus. I'm Jim, and you're not.

The trip from the shit hole town in which Thaddeus Duke was nearly incarcerated and charged with assault to the Steel City was a bit over an hour long. The Duke Explorer tailed close behind Lincoln Tritter's Cadillac. Tritter's orders. Jim wasn't familiar with American highways and Thaddeus is oblivious to navigation so following Tritter, never mind the fact he scared the shit out of both of them, seemed like a good idea. Finally, they had made it to Pittsburgh. Too late to get a Pittsburgh salad, but they made it nevertheless.

The trip into the city was relatively quiet. Ariana was mad at Thaddeus for "acting like a fool," and Jim was concentrating on driving. Thaddeus drifted in and out of sleep as he finally begins to relax his nerves from the very tenuous events of the last week.

The cars pull up to the valet and bellhops empty the baggage as Jim, Ariana, Lincoln Tritter and Thaddeus Duke meet on the sidewalk. Tritter hands key cards to everyone and they begin to file into the hotel. "Thaddeus," Tritter says, stopping just inside the doors. Duke turns to look at him and Tritter shakes his head slowly. "Before you call it a night... It's best we have a chat.

"Let's go the bar... The bellhops will take care of the luggage."

It's very rare when Thaddeus Duke is unsure of himself. Lincoln Tritter is a big guy. Tall and broad. The young leader can't help but think of the damage Tritter could do and the name he could have made for himself in the XWF had he been maybe 20 years younger. He's a bit intimidating and that reality is not lost on Thaddeus.

Ariana heads toward the elevators after taking her key card. She stops abruptly and returns to Thaddeus et al. The young man smiles and she smiles back before quickly snatching his matching keycard. "Heeeey," he pleads in an almost whiny tone of voice. Ariana playfully slaps his cheek and spins, walking away. Thaddeus turns to James, "I guess we're room mates."

Jim rolls his eyes. "There better be two beds." Thaddeus stares at him blankly. "No, seriously. There better be two fucking beds."

"And if there's not?"

"NO!"

"You're being very dramatic, Jim."

"Dude. Seriously. Last time there was only one bed. YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING NAKED BESIDE ME AGAIN!

"You fucking freak of nature."

Thaddeus smiles. "Oh chill out man, it wasn't that bad."

"I swear to God, you're sleeping in the fucking hallway."

Thaddeus continues to smile.

"Don't be so jealous Jim. Jealousy is truly an ugly color. Besides its not like God lines us up and says 'pick one.'"

"God? You invoked God?"

"I was being facetious."

"WEAR CLOTHES!" James yells before storming off toward the elevators.

Without saying anything more, Thaddeus follows the would-be brute into the hotel lounge where they sit at a dimly lit table in the back corner. Very few hotel patrons are about. It's Saturday night so most are either partying in their rooms or out at the casino or the various night clubs scattered throughout the city.

"Mr. Tritter, I want to..." Thaddeus begins before being curtly interrupted by Tritter.

"Just Lincoln," Tritter insists. "When people see us together in public, I prefer them to see and hear a couple of friends talking.

"First names only.

"Proper titles beg for attention."

Thaddeus ponders momentarily. "Lincoln, I want to thank you for what you did back there. It was kind of impressive.

"The Holy Fa..." Thaddeus stops himself. "Frank didn't mention you were in the State Department."

"I'm not with the State Department."

Thaddeus cocks his head, confused slightly.

"Thaddeus, I'm whatever I need to be, whenever I need to be it."

"Well regardless. Thanks for that."

"My job is to be your eyes... and your ears.

"My job is to know things. My job is to protect you with that knowledge. Part of that is knowing what you're up to, where you are."

"I'm impressed. In fact, I was impressed when Frank told me that I don't find you, you find me."

"Let's get one thing clear, Thaddeus," Lincoln begins. He's not one for a lot of breeze shooting and chit chat. "I take my orders from you and only you. I don't work for your friends and loved ones.

"You tell me what you want. I give you what you want.

"You tell me what's hidden, I'll find it.

"You tell me whomever it is that's being a thorn in your side... and let's just say... they'll cease to be a thorn in your side."

"Well, I have a case for you."

Tritter stares at his new boss.

"There's this Senator requesting my presence in Washington. Something about my warplanes. Anyway, I need you to get me out of it."

Tritter sits back, chewing his gum. Not taking his eyes off of Thaddeus he slowly shakes his head back and forth. "Nope."

"What do you mean 'nope'? I thought you worked for me."

"I do, Thaddeus. Here's something you need to learn, kid. Strong arm the law, fine. Strong arm the federal government and you make yourself a target. Make yourself available to the Senator.

"I'll cover the rest."

Lincoln Tritter abandons the conversation and heads up to his room. Seconds later, a waitress walks toward his table and stops. She's not attractive. Late 50's looking, but just barely into her 40's. "Can I getcha somethin'? Hows come yer not dahntahn (downtown)?"

"How 'bout a YooHoo?"

"Baby cakes this ain't Sheetz."

"Ya got Scotch?"

"Ya got ID?"

Thaddeus sighs and gets up.

"How 'bout dem Stillers (Steelers)? Think Big Ben'll ritahhrrrrrrr (retire)?"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about ma'am."

"You're not a Brahhhhhns (Browns) fan are ya?"

"I really gotta be going. It was nice chattin' with ya." It's at this moment that Thaddeus feels the Yinzer lingo, otherwise known as Pittsburghuese, creeping in. He runs toward the elevator in hopes of sleeping it off before heading home in the morning.

...Present Day...

Consider this fact: zero promos dropped for Wednesday Warfare and we're more than a week into the promo period. Guys, I realize you're lost without me but you really don't need to wait for me to promo. Like seriously, if I'm the glue that holds Warfare together, then we have some serious problems. I get that I'm normally an early promo dropper but what happens, guys, if I take off for a show?

I mean, I can just imagine this scenario in my head. A half dozen or so guys all receiving their emails or text notifications of their upcoming Warfare bookings. They film whatever it is they need to film and they're about ready to upload their garbage onto the website for their opponents and all of their fan, yes fan, to see annnnnnnd 'what the fuck? No Duke? No pristine work of fucking art that is a Thaddeus Duke promo? I can't upload until he uploads. It's Warfare tradition!'

No guys. It's okay. Upload away.

It's nice to know though, that yours truly is single handedly bringing down the XWF flagship.

All jokes aside, let's discuss for a moment the lack of foresight displayed by the management of the XWF. I know what you're thinking: "Thaddeus, I thought you gave up on that." I did. But I didn't. I just want to point out for the record, your honor, that whatever match I'm in, steals the show and the rest of the card is an absolute letdown.

I'm the gold standard. I'm the fucking measuring stick. I'm the next big thing. All the cliche's. While I believe a lot of that is true, I'm in no way shape or form the gold standard.

Nah ya fucks, I'm the god damn diamond standard.

Ok, look. I'm a nice guy. I'm even a pretty good guy for the most part. But I'm not one to mince words and sell myself short. I know I'm good. Better than good. I'm the best fucking thing going today.

Except maybe Jim Caedus. God he's fun to watch. #1 in the XPR too.

There. I threw in a little humility.

But let's be real. Caedus might be number one in the rankings, but we know Thaddeus Duke is number one in your hearts.

That pretty much ruined the humility, didn't it?

Fuck it, who cares?

Here's the skinny: Thaddeus Duke is the opening match so tune in, watch the show stealin' mother fucker that is myself, then tune out because you're going to fall asleep. That's just how it works. You put the best on first and the rest fail to live up to the diamond standard that I put forth every god damn card. It's a recurring theme. It happened at Lethal Lottery, too. Hell not even the blinking briefcase on a stick match held a candle to the fucking masterpiece theater put on between Doc D'Ville and I.

Ghost Taint was there too, but he mostly stood there, got his head thrown through a window like Marty Jannetty, got stitched up and came back just to get his teeth kicked down his throat by the fucking Diamond God of Professional Wrestling.

The entire point of this promo, is not to talk about Mistake-a or Peter Gilmour. There will come a time for that. The entire point of this promo is to talk about me. The fucking best of the best, fuck all the rest. I probably borrowed that one.

Also, I'm trying to figure out how many nicknames I can give myself before people start catching on that I'm my own biggest fan.

That's kinda heelish isn't it?

Fuck it. The chicks dig it.

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