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Thaddeus Duke · (11-28-2020)

Opening my eyes, I notice I’m in a void. Just nothing on top of more nothing. No sounds. No objects. No light. Just me inside my own subconscious. Sitting Indian style on what, beneath my palms, feels like a type of compacted dirt surface. Gritty texture, but no residue. To myself I wonder just how much power I actually have here. It is my subconscious but at the same time, this is all new territory to me. Can I make things happen by thinking them? Do I just say “light” for instance then snap my fingers? Do I have to do the nod like Jeannie? The nose twitch like Samantha?

”Give me light,” I say aloud and at once, the place I’m in lights up before my eyes. It seems like a cavern of some kind. Maybe an old bunker. The floor is dirt like I thought but the walls are old cinder block that looks to have been painted over time and time again.

My doing? I wonder to myself. It’s kind of drafty in here so I begin to think that I came under dressed. I went to sleep in just boxer shorts and that’s all I wear now. With little more than a thought, I’m clothed in jeans and a hoodie.

On my feet now, I venture through the labyrinth of my subconscious. Every now and then, a door appears on either side. Coming to the first door on my right, etched in the wood of the door is the word ‘BIRTH’ and its already slightly ajar.

”Clearly someone’s been snoopin’,” I say aloud to no one. Out of curiosity I approach the door. Hesitantly, I open that door and peek inside. Nothing. Blackness. Thinking about it for a few seconds, I decide to step inside and all at once, the room lights up like the fourth of July.

Asmodeus’s Laboratory beneath his old farmhouse on the grounds of the Illuminatus Compound.

My father is here. My grandfather. My mother is strapped to a table. And Jake Anderson, my dads best friend and his right hand man, too.

”NOW JACOB!” my grandfather shouts and Jake hits my father in the side of the head before handcuffing him to a railing. With a scalpel, my grandfather starts to cut open my pregnant mothers belly. Just as he does, I back out of the room slamming the door shut behind me. My heart races as I catch my breath against the wooden door.

”Where you at Doc?” I cry out, not really expecting him to be like ‘over here in your faded memories from high school.’ ”Let’s play, D’Ville!”

Regaining my bearings a bit, I continue through the labyrinth. One by one I pass different doors. 1 Month. 2 Month. 3 Month. It then skips right over everything else and goes right to Fifteenth Birthday.

”I know where he is,” I say out loud as I begin to jog down the seemingly endless corridor. I glance quickly as I jog passed the doors to specific memories, time period memories, memories of specific people, before finally finding the door I’m looking for. This door is of good quality wood, stained in a dark red. Its hinges and doorknob, bright colored brass. Etched in its surface: “The Fall of the Church”

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door revealing the darkness within. When I step inside the doorway, the main aisle way inside the Basilica lights up, but rather dim. Upon the alter rests the throne of Saint Peter and sitting within that throne and still wearing my Illuminatus crown is the legend himself Doctor Louis D’Ville. Casually I walk the aisle way, D’Ville beaming his famous grin in my direction.

”You’re in the right church, but the wrong pew,” I say to him as I climb the steps toward the throne. ”The chair you sit, the crown upon your head, the building you’re in, the city it rests in… still belong to me,” I inform him.

”Indeed, young Duke.”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him. ”I hold the power here.”

”Perhaps you do young...” Doc smiles a little. ”Where are my manners? Excuse me, Thaddeus,” he says with mocking smirk as he throws his leg off the arm of the chair and stands up.

As I finish climbing the steps, a slight breeze blows into the darkened Basilica and my jeans and hoodie are gone and in their place, the gold and crimson colored floral patterned royal regalia I once wore when I was younger.

Not my doing, he’s clearly not entirely powerless here.

Taking my rightful seat upon the throne, with my left foot planted firmly on the floor, I toss my right leg over the arm of the ancient chair… just like I always did.

”You belong down there,” I inform D’Ville, pointing toward the floor at the bottom of the steps. Doc looks at me, then down at the bottom.

”Of course,” he says as he ventures downward, my crown resting within his hands.

”I’ll have that, if you don’t mind Doc,” I say to him and with a ‘come hither’ wiggle of my fingers, the crown soars from his hands to mine. Like I always did, I spin it a few times like a basketball on the tip of my middle finger, before flipping it upon my own head, cocked slightly askew and with a forward lean.

”Why are you here?” I ask of him. He says nothing, just returns a smile and clasps his fingers behind his back.

”Just browsing,” he finally answers.

”See anything you like?”

”A great deal, actually,” Doc answers quickly.

”Like what?”

Again, just the D’Ville grin, no words.

”The headaches I’ve been suffering,” I preface a question. ”Your doing? Opening doors I wanted to remain shut?”

Headaches? Hmm. Well, apparently had you not locked them up so tightly, you wouldn’t have ever known I was here! I DID have to kick a few open..."

”Why? Why this sudden interest in someone so much younger than you? Why all the interest in someone you have nothing in common with?”

He says nothing initially.

”Might I approach… Your Highness?” he asks mockingly.

I wave my hand, giving him the ‘okay.’ Of course, this is my brain so I’m not going to make it easy on him. As he climbs, I keep adding steps with my mind. He starts taking two steps at a time, so I start adding three at a time. He stops suddenly.

”Clever,” he says with a less enthused grin.

”My house, my rules,” I reply with a smile as he resumes climbing the steps. I stop adding them, and allow him to reach the foot of throne.

”I think we have more in common then you care to let on.”

”Once maybe, Doc. Not anymore.”

Doc leans in close to me, giving me a deep sniff causing me to shift uncomfortably in the throne.

”Mmmm… Something in common, indeed.”

I hold my hands out to either side of the throne and quietly, my two lions venture in from the darkness behind me, resting their heads in my hands giving D’Ville a light warning growl. D’Ville backs up a step.

”For me?” he asks.

I say nothing.

”How thoughtful, young Duke...”

”Thaddeus,” I remind him again.

”It does get cold this time of year, I could use some new coats.”

Bursting from the ancient chair, I give D’Ville a hard shove and he leaves his feet. D’Ville misses the first few steps and lands hard on the next, tumbling down the last few to the floor below. Beginning the walk down the steps toward D’Ville, snow starts to fall in the darkened Basilica. My royal wear is now replaced by my battle gear. Gray and white camouflage, my sidearm holstered at my thigh. The name DUKE over the right side of my chest, a golden crown embroidered above the name. The blue and white Illuminatus flag patch on both shoulders.

When I reach the bottom, I place my boot under the shoulder of D’Ville who is on his hands and knees, and roll him over.

”No gear for me?” he asks as he eyeballs me.

”Like I said, my house, my rules.”

Doc only smiles. As he does so, I pounce on him, pinning his shoulders to the floor below him, and start throwing my closed fist towards his old man face. Over and over, my fist contacts his face until he’s bleeding from his nose and his left eye.

Not once does he try and fight back.

”Fight me, Lou!” I shout as I grip my hand around his throat and squeeze, increasing pressure gradually. Again, he never loses that fucking grin.

”Killllll meeeee,” he replies through strangled breath.

Out of restraint, I release my grip on his throat and step off of him. ”Mother fuck!” I shout out in frustration of the precarious situation I find myself in. I want so badly to stomp his skull into nothing but a mix of broken skull plate, blood and brain matter.

”Is that it?” Doc asks as he makes his way to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose. ”Give me more.”

”I don’t want you dead, Lou!” I shout out in response and he again just grins.

”Yes you do, boy!”

”No! I just want you the fuck out of my head and stay the hell out of my memories!” I reply as I lean down to pet the lions who are none too thrilled with what they’re seeing. Agitated would be an understatement.

”Then you’ll have to kill me,” he says as he starts to climb the steps behind me.

Suddenly, I’m ripped into the air by unseen forces and sent colliding into a stone pillar in the Basilica, the back of my head cracking off the floor and I’m immediately immobilized by tinnitus, a recurring symptom of a past concussion. Trying to see Doc through my blurred vision but still unable to move, I can make out one of my lions pouncing on D’Ville. As my vision clears, I can see its Simba and he has his mouth locked up tight on D’Ville’s arm. Before I can do anything, Doc twitches his head to his right and Simba falls limp to the floor after a slight whimper.

Doc examines the wounds to his arm and I jump to my feet and rush over to my fallen lion. Mufasa rears up, staring at Doc like he wants to pounce.

”Control that beast, young Duke, or go home with neither,” he warns me.

I glance at Doc, then over at Mufasa.

”Heel, Mufasa!” I command, but he isn’t listening and lets out a deafening roar. ”Shit,” I mutter under my breath. With the power of thought, a large cage now surrounds my remaining lion. For a moment, kneeling beside Simba, I cradle his head as he draws his last breath.

Locked in the cage, Mufasa lets out another deafening roar as he throws the weight of his body against the walls of the cage, trying to break it apart. Wiping the curled hair out of my eyes, I stand up and draw my pistol.

”Now we’re getting somewhere,” D’Ville says as he backpedals slowly.

I walk toward him, gun drawn and pointed, then fire. Pull the hammer, fire. Pull again, fire. With each successive shot, Doc is rocked, but doesn’t fall. I fire the weapon, hitting him several times, emptying the magazine. After changing the magazine I pull the hammer back again and look at Doc. His grin hasn’t disappeared and blood gushes from each of his wounds.

Behind me, I hear the cage collapse and Mufasa is free. He charges toward Doc and I can see D’Ville dart his eyes in his direction so I fire, just inches away from his forehead. The eyes roll back in D’Ville’s head and Mufasa pounces, locking his jaw on D’Ville’s throat as Doc falls backward. D’Ville hits the floor, but vanishes into nothing but an ashy smoke in the shape of his body.

Mufasa whimpers then stands on his hind legs, placing his front paws on my shoulder just as I holster my weapon. ”You’re a good boy, Mufasa,” I say to him with tears in my eyes as I hug him around his neck for a moment. He leave me and lands on his feet. The lion stands beside me for a moment, looking at his dead brother, then up at me, then again at his brother. Mufasa saunters over to where Simba lies and gives his brother a sniff. He nudges him gently with his snout then whimpers and collapses on the floor, resting his head upon his brothers lifeless body.

”WAKE HIM UP!” I shout out, as if those in my bedroom watching me sleep could actually hear me. For a moment, I sit beside my boys, angry with myself for bringing them into this. For a moment, I grieve uncontrollably, burying my head in Simba’s mane. A few seconds later, both lions vanish much in the way Doc did only moments ago.

With Louis D’Ville and both lions now gone from my subconscious dream world, I sit alone with my grief inside the snowy Basilica. In the distance, behind the throne, I can hear a creaking sound.

”Hello?” I call out like a fucking dumbass. No one else is here but you, dipshit.

Climbing to my feet, I wipe the snow from my ass as I climb the steps to the altar and walk past the throne. Lit up behind it are three doors and I’ve now reached the conclusion that D’Ville isn’t gone, he’s just moved somewhere else.

Etched into the first door: Plenty of Death. Etched into the second: Some Death. Etched into the third: Your Death.

”God dammit,” I mutter to myself as I reach up and turn the nob on the third door. Your death.

Once through the door, I enter into darkness. I turn back toward the door, but of course, it’s gone. A result of which makes me question just how much power here that Doctor D’Ville truly has. Does he have it all? Just enough to create doubt in my mind? Is he playing me now? Or am I still playing him?

Stepping forward into the abyss of blackness, the… memory… lights up before me and I stop in my tracks, taking it all in and surveying my surroundings. I stand alone in a meadow about a few hundred yards from a dense forest. It’s a warm sunny day with birds chirping and several deer pick at berries in the bushes near the tree line. My battle gear from earlier is replaced with ornate armor, lion heads on the shoulder plates, and find a sword sheathed at my side. Removing the sword to take a gander, in the blunt side of the blade, etched and gilded: LeoCor. Latin for Lionheart.

Beneath my feet, I feel a couple of thumps, as if something heavy were impacting the ground. Turning my head to take a peek with my sword still drawn, I notice a heavily armored pure black horse coming toward me slowly. It’s tall and muscular, certainly not bred for speed, but to take a licking. Sheathing my sword, the big brute comes closer and whinnies. On the thick leather armor running down the length of his head toward his nose, the letters TD are burned into the leather. MY initials.

As the horse draws near, I gently rub the unprotected side of his head. For a moment, I half expected this horse to start talking to me, causing me to laugh at myself for a quick second. Taking a second to place my right foot into the stirrup and climb upon the big brute, I notice the bedroll attached behind the all black saddle. PHOBOS, it reads in gold lettering. In Greek mythology, Phobos was the horse belonging to Ares, the God of War. Back in the real world, the Ares Project named themselves that because they believe I’m a terrorist warmonger.

”You rang?” asks the voice of my father as I sit down in the saddle, startling me. He too is sitting on an armored horse. He too, wears armor.

”What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, still perplexed.

”A guide, I suppose,” he answers.

”I’m so confused,” I admit to him.

”This is where you landed when you fell through Azrael’s time rift as an infant,” he begins to explain.

One of my most painful of memories. It’s sounds entirely crazy and bizarre. Azrael Erebus once helped my father see things through a different light, as in, what life might have been like had my mother not died. A result of that caused a rift in space time and yours truly fell through the wormhole as a baby.

When I landed here the year was 2514 and I was 15 years old and so very confused. It was kind of a ‘days of future past’ bizarro world. The world economy collapsed and nations fell. The United States became known as the American Empire, ruled by an Emperor. What used to be states in America became counties of the Empire, governed by kings and queens. Guns became scarce and non-existent. Slowly, what was old, became new again and what you see today in the modern day real world, reverted to medieval times in this one.

While I was here, I was taken in by a small village, often terrorized by the king and his men seeking money. In that village I met a girl named Lily. As time went by, Lily became the first girl I… loved, for lack of better terminology. At some point, as my father kept coming and going- why he didn’t just take me home, I’ll never know- the kings men sacked our little village for failure to pay taxes and took Lily who was also the daughter of the village leader for ransom.

A short time later, he sent her severed head back to us.

Entirely enraged, me and some of the villagers rode off to the kings castle in revolt. His men were simple idiots and were rather easy to cut down. Inside the castle, I confronted the king and had him dead to rights. Little did I know, he had one of the only guns in existence and shot me in the heart when I was about to kill him.

There’s a big part of me that wishes I’d have stayed dead. Maybe it’s shitty to say, but it’s the truth. It’s not that my life is hard, it isn’t. At least not in the way it is for average people. I’m not average and I never have been.

As my father and I quietly weave our way through the forest on horseback, two riders approach us on the rear.

”Who the hell are they?” I ask of my dad.

”Your body guards I guess,” he answers.

The one on my left removes his helm. To my surprise and delight, that role is filled by Corey fuckin’ Smith.

”How the hell is a hot twink supposed to protect me?” I ask facetiously.

”Dude, why’d you bring me into this?”

”I don’t know bro,” I answer him as we ride further into the forest. ”Probably all those texts you sent me warning me against D’Ville.”

”I was right,” Corey says as he looks around at the four of us. ”So like… is this the Four Horsemen of the A-Doc-alypse?” he asks, causing me to laugh.

As we near the edge of the forest that empties out into a small village, the other rider, still beneath his helm, mumbles something entirely inaudible and steers his horse right into a tree. The man falls off his horse and his armor clanks together as he hits the ground and his helm falls off his head.

”Jimmy fucking Caedus!?” I shout out a bit incredulously. ”What did you say?”

”I said I can’t see a fucking thing, Thadly!” he says as he collects himself and his helm, replacing it on his head.

”You have it on backwards, dumbass,” I say causing Corey to laugh and my dad to roll his eyes.

”These are they guys your subconscious called on to help you?”

I look at both of my homies from another life, then shrug and look back at my dad. ”Who you got?”

”Maybe you really are a lost cause,” he says as Caedus fixes his helm so he can see and climbs back on his horse.

”You look pretty hot in that armor, not gonna lie,” I say to Corey, causing him to blush just a little.

”Really?” he asks as he gives himself a once over, to which I nod as the four of us exit the forest. ”Maybe we’ll have ourselves a medieval romp in the hay before we go,” he jokes with one raised eyebrow.

”Christ,” says my father with a roll of his eyes.

”Sit STILL, stupid fucking horse!” Jim shouts as his horse keeps getting nervous and threatening to throw him from his saddle.

Reaching the clearing, it isn’t a small village like I said, but a row of shops outside the walls of the castle. My father looks at me, and I at him.

”You changed it,” he surmises.

I nod.

”Changed what?” Corey asks, but I ignore him for the moment.

”This is the end of the line, then.”

”It is.”

My father and his horse disappear into the ashy smoke, much the same was as Doc earlier and my lions.

”I guess its just the three of us then, huh Thadly?” Jim asks.

”Sorry Jim, your services won’t be needed,” I inform him.

Like my father, Jim Caedus also disappears into ashy smoke.

”What did you change?” Corey asks as I urge my horse forward into the town. Like six years ago, men on horseback are charging into the town, cutting down the kings men like a hot knife through butter. I only turn to look at Corey with a smirk, again electing not to answer his question.

”Thad! Why are you keeping me but let Caedus and your dad go?”

”Because I love you,” I say, turning toward him as we reach the courtyard. Behind us, men are battling with swords and one is shoved into the hind end of Corey’s horse. In response, the horse bucks and kicks the kings guard that bumped him, nearly throwing Corey off.

”Jesus fuck! I almost went over right there!” he shouts as he rights himself on the horse. ”Wait, you don’t love your dad?”

”Different kind of love,” I answer back.

We turn the corner and the courtyard to the castle is just a few hundred feet ahead. Men still battle and die around us, none of them paying any attention to us whatsoever.

”Why is it a different kind of love?” Corey inquires.

”I didn’t choose my father,” I begin to explain. ”But me and you? We chose each other.”

”Hey are you getting younger?” he asks and I only look at him with a smile. ”Wait, you are getting younger! When I first hooked up with you back there, you had some growth on your face… its gone.”

”Nice observation,” I say with a chuckle. ”If I get much younger, Chris Page might wanna buy my services on a street corner.”

”Ha! GOT ‘EM!” Corey says as he squints, trying hard to see the golden haired kid running around the corner, guards hot on his tail. ”Holy shit is that you?”

”Yep.”

”You’re a lot cuter now,” he says with a smile, causing me to chuckle.

We reach the memory version of myself, as two guards tackle him into the dirt. Him? Me? You know what I mean. After hopping off the horse, I draw my sword, Corey does the same. I grab the closest guy to me and he spins to elbow me, but I duck out of the way. Corey drives his sword right up between his armor. The other goes to hit the memory version of me in the face but I catch his arm, he looks up at me and I drive my sword right down into his neck.

”Holy shit, that was intense!”

”These guys are like… level one NPC’s bro, they weren’t anything,” I reply to him as I turn my attention to the young, golden haired, blue eyed version of me. He stares up at me knowingly but understandably confused.

”How come your hair and eyes are dark now compared to 15?” Corey asks, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I reach my hand out to the teenage me. He accepts and I help him to his feet.

”Thank you,” young Thad says to me.

”Don’t mention it.”

He turns to make his way to the front door of the castle, but with my steel clad fist, I grab him by his shoulder.

”You know what happens when you go in there?” I ask him.

”I’m gonna kill the king,” he says as he tries to turn away again, my grip not letting him go.

”You go in there, you die,” I inform young me. ”You knock him on his fat ass, you go to drive your sword into his chest, but he has a gun and shoots you in the heart.”

He stares at me perplexed. ”But there aren’t any guns,” he argues.

”I know, but he has one.”

”Let me go,” he insists.

”I can’t do that, I’m sorry.”

”He beheaded my Lily,” he says with a tear in his eye. ”He thought it’d be fun to send her head back to us in a box.”

”I know, Thaddeus,” I say to him as I begin to feel his pent up emotion.

”I have to avenge her,” he says as he once again tries to turn away. This time, I belt him in the temple with me steel fist, knocking him unconscious.

”That was… surreal.” That’s putting it mildly.

Leaving the horses outside, Corey follows me through the large double doors leading into the throne room of the ancient castle. Inside, the king paces behind the throne, paying us no attention whatsoever.

”How come you never told me about this one?” Corey whispers to me as we walk up the aisle toward the king.

”You’re here aren’t you?”

”Yeah but...”

”When you wake up, text me and let me know whether you remember this or not.”

”Stop!” shouts the king as he realizes we’re there. ”Guards!” he cries out.

”They’re busy being slaughtered,” I inform him. ”Your Majesty,” I lean toward him, mockingly.

”You there,” he says, pointing to me. He squints hard, like he might recognize me. ”Do I know you lad?”

”Thaddeus Duke, Your Majesty… though I’m not quite what you remember.”

”Yes!” he says with a clap of his hands. ”The foolish lad that insulted his king! Tell me, did you enjoy the gift I sent you?”

I say nothing. The gift he’s referring to, was Lily’s head. As I stand here watching him, seeing him live and breathe again after all these years, pent up rage and hurt and… I don’t know the word for it… boils toward the surface, urging to be let out.

”That lad with you, what’s his name?”

”Sir Corey the Broken,” I answer him.

”Hey!” Corey yells out, objecting to the moniker.

”Corey, pillar.”

”What?” he asks. In response, I eyeball the pillar to his left and nod. It takes a moment, but it finally registers and he retreats to cover.

”Just us then?”

I draw my sword and look at its blade.

”Is it death you’re looking for, boy!?” asks the king as he rises from his throne, his pistol in hand and pointed in my direction.

I toss my sword up at his feet.

”It certainly is,” I answer his question. ”Yours this time, not mine.”

It occurs to me in the moment, the word that was escaping me a bit ago.

Madness.

I dart behind a pillar as he fires the gun. The bullet impacts the pillar I stand behind, dust and stone chips rain down upon my head. Remembering the gun was faulty and always jammed after a shot, I step from behind the pillar.

”There you are, coward!”

He pulls the trigger as I climb the steps toward him. Just as I remembered, it jams.

”Damn!”

I reach him just as he clears the jam and it misfires badly, discharging the bullet toward the ceiling. Grabbing his hand gripping the pistol, I squeeze, causing his hand muscles to loosen their grip on the gun and it falls harmlessly to dangle from his finger.

”Perhaps we can work this out lad?” he questions. ”Sometimes, peaceful resolutions can be had if respectful discussions take place.”

Squeezing his wrist just a little harder, he drops the gun to the floor below and it chatters down the steps.

”I’ve thought about this from time to time you know?”

”About peaceful discussion?”

I shake my head no.

”About what it might be like, how I might do it… you know… killing you,” I say with a cold stare.

Corey pokes his head out from around the pillar. Realizing there’s no need for cover any longer, he steps out and watches the scene unfold.

”Thaddeus, right?” he asks, trying to remember my name. ”I think maybe we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s take a step back and see if we can’t restart our relationship.”

I squeeze his wrist harder and harder, before headbutting him in the bridge of his nose and he falls to his knees, blood now gushing from his busted nasal cavity.

”I’ve thought of this moment for six years, and I won’t be robbed of seeing it through. Not from you.”

”You broke my nose!” he shouts as he tries to stop the blood with his free hand.

”Don’t worry, Your Majesty, it won’t hurt much longer,” I inform him as I grip him by his throat and land on him with all of my weight. The crown from his head hits the floor and rolls several feet away. Squeezing harder and harder, he struggles to breathe. He claws at my hands, claws at my face, but I’m much taller than he and my wingspan is larger. He can only reach my shoulders.

Not really wanting him to die just yet, I release my grip and lean off of him. Gasping for breath and clutching his throat, he struggles in vain to crawl away from me. Like a hungry lion stalking his prey, I follow him closely. He leans to his left to see where I am, but accidentally rolls down the steps, conveniently right next to his gun. Watching this unfold, just as the king gets his hand on the gun, Corey steps on his hand, then reaches down and removes it from the kings grasp before tossing it to me.

The King struggles to his feet as I grab my sword. It drags behind me as I descend the steps with a clang and a clang and a clang. I reach the lower surface as the king gets to his feet. He turns to face me with me pointing the gun at his chest. Six years ago, it was me staring down this same barrel.

Without warning, I pull the trigger, shooting him in the heart. He looks stunned as if he didn’t think I’d really do it. Blood pumps from the wound in his chest. Still standing, he tries in vain to stop the bleeding.

”You… shot… me,” he says as he watches his own blood pump out through his shaking fingers.

”And now I’m gonna kill you,” I say as I drive my sword through the front of his throat out the back of his neck. He starts to shake uncontrollably as shock begins to set in. Before removing the long blade from his neck, I give it a twist. After removal, I allow the king to fall to his knees, but grab him by his hair, intent on watching the life leave his eyes. Several seconds later, the blood pumping out of his wounds slows to a trickle and his eyes glaze over before his chest stops heaving. I let go of his hair and he falls dead on the stone floor.

CLAP!

CLAP!

CLAP!

”Thad,” Corey calls out to me before motioning toward the throne. I turn to see…

CLAP!

Doctor D’Ville.

”Well done young Duke,” he says from his place standing behind the throne. ”If you two were the same person,” D’Ville begins as he eyeballs Corey and I. ”Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a difficult task.”

D’Ville steps out from behind the throne. ”I don’t mind joint sessions, but I’m charging you separately,” he concludes.

”This isn’t what it looks like, Doc,” I inform him.

”No? Then what is it?”

”I warned you not to trust him, Thad! I tried to tell you...”

"And is that based from experience, Mr. Smith? Last I recall, you got exactly what you asked of me. You just didn't realize what you were asking."

Corey opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

”Please, young Duke. Have a seat,” D’Ville says to me, motioning toward the throne. ”We’re in session.”

Deciding to humor the old man, I advance up the steps and sit the throne. Once again, my armor is replaced by the crimson and gold colored royal wear. His doing, I assume to myself.

”How does it feel?” he asks. ”Sitting the throne again.”

”I feel nothing,” I reply.

Doc paces slowly behind the throne and stops, before placing his hand on my shoulder.

”The Lyin’ King,” he muses aloud.

In response, I shake my head. ”I’m not lying, Doc. I feel nothing.”

”You don’t feel invincible?” Doc asks in my right ear before quickly switching to my left. ”You don’t feel the power that comes from sitting in that chair?”

”I… it’s different. It isn’t real.”

”You murdered the king, beautifully brutally might I add, that would make you the king now would it not? You killed the king, you sit in his throne and… put this on,” he stops as he hands me the crown.

”Doc, this is just...”

”Do it.”

Humoring him again, I place the dead kings crown upon my head.

”Power… is something you take boy!”

His statement jars a memory loose and right in front of us as if we were watching a film, is an old memory between me and my grandfather.

”Now is not the time!” Asmodeus yells out at me.

”You made me the Defense Minister, Grandfather, you gave me that power now let me use it!”

”Gave you? If I gave you power, then you have nothing. Power… is something you take boy!”

The scene fades quickly and I look at Doc, grinning of course.

”In reality Doc, he killed me, it’s not even real.”

”Oh?” he points down at the floor to the dead king. ”Yet there he lies.”

”Yeah but Doc...”

”Tell me, young Duke, how did it feel to have the power to alter history? How did it feel when he avoided that first shot and knew his gun was going to jam? How did it feel, when you squeezed his wretched little wrist?”

I hesitate to answer.

”I don’t know how it felt.”

Doc gives me a deep sniff.

”Yes you do.

“How did it feel to squeeze all but the last of his life from him? How did it feel to shoot him in the heart like he shot you six years ago? How did it feel to drive that beautiful sword through the front, and out the back?

“How did it feel, Thaddeus...”

His uncharacteristic referral to me by my first name causes me to look up at him for a moment before returning my attention to the dead king.

”...to at long last, watch him take his last breath?”

I sit silently for a moment in thought.

”I waited to do that for six long years, Doc.”

”Indeed.”

”There were times… not so much lately… where I’d lie awake at night. I could see Lily’s face. I could see it all clear as daylight. I could see the king laughing as he gave us her head. And later in this very room… I could see in slow motion that bullet hitting me in the heart.”

”And when you thought of those terrible memories, young Duke, what did you think about?”

”How I could avenge Lily… and myself.”

”You were born to live again and what did you do with that new lease on life?”

”Rained hellfire all over Europe.”

”Why?”

”Because I could.”

Doc smiles.

”It made you feel whole again. It filled the void left in you when that wretched idiot took your beloved Lily away from you.”

”Maybe.”

”You came here chasing after me is what you think… but the fact is, I followed you. The door you chose was your own creation.”

I say nothing, electing to simply look at the good doctor.

”When you got here and decided to chase your wildest desires for revenge, how did it feel to see it through? How did it feel to finally exact your revenge?”

”Satisfying.”

”Of course it did. There’s a darkness in you young Duke, tell me there isn’t.”

Again, I say nothing.

”Am I wasting my time trying to find it? Am I wasting my time trying to set you free?”

I hesitate to answer.

He stares into my eyes with his typical grin.

”I don’t know,” I answer him honestly.

”Now we’re making progress,” he says as he places his hand on my shoulder. ”Now we can begin.”

It’s funny to me, honestly. I sit here watching these Robert Main promos, and I know its him. I mean, it looks like him. Yet why is that when I see his mouth move, all I hear is Chris Page’s voice? They got some real Weekend at Bernie’s shit goin’ on down there at the ranch.

I spit truth.

I always have.

These two overachieving jokes want to sit on the pedestal they created for themselves with the tons of ego they’ve wrapped themselves in and not only spit out the same useless drivel while grasping at straws and repeating the same old shit they’ve been spitting since the first Chris Page promo. Yeah, you might want to act like you guys plan every god damn thing and can predict every god damn thing but here’s the fact: all I do is tell the people the truth about you. It’s not spin. It’s truth and the truth is predictable because it’s already known. So, let’s not act like y’all have superior brain power when you just said my dad was dead when he lost a buried alive match.

You buried him alive.

You didn’t bury him dead.

“Robert” my boy, and yeah I’m using the finger air quotes because the signs are written all over this shit that something just ain’t right in Cataclysmland. “Robert”, no one rips off Chris Page. Only a fool would rip off Chris Page. Nobody will ever try to take an idea from Chris Page. Hinting around that my first promo was a rip off of Chris Page because he started seeing a shrink five weeks ago is all the proof of your inferior brain power that anyone needs. Listen close because I’mma learn you something big guy, in my first match back when I was under a mask and calling myself The Collector, I released some promos against Gage Gannon, you know, like we do every time we have a match and “Robert” wouldn’t you know it, I happened to be seeing my shrink wayyy back then, so you tell me… who’s copying who? What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Or maybe I planned it all and I saw into the future and saw Page seeing a shrink and was like ‘hmmm, now that there is good drama, I’mma copy it and use it before him so “Robert” “Main” can come out here several months later and call me out for copying something I did before Page…

See, now its all messy.

The reality is really quite simple. You both should see a shrink and seek some guidance and maybe find a fourth personality that is even the least bit interesting.

Main and Page? Nobody cares.

The Omega and the Beast? Nobody cares.

The Monster and the Monstrosity? Nobody cares.

Why? Because between the two of you and all six of your collective personalities, you have the intelligence of a fucking lava lamp, the attention spans of a single gnat and the personalities of a fucking log. No one cares about Cataclysm, because there’s nothing to care about.

You guys talk up this big run you guys are on like its gonna fuckin’ matter after tomorrow night. It won’t. Your reign of mehh comes to an end tomorrow night at High Stakes. You talk about steamrolling the Sick Cunts as if one half of that team didn’t, you know, just kinda mail it in a little (okay, a lot) to save himself for his cash in later in the night.

“Robert” talks a big game like he’s the best fucking thing to hit the squared circle, but its a lot easier to be the big dog when you only wrestle once a month and your run is protected by facing guys like Zane and Chaos all the god damn time.

Yep.

True main eventer right there.

Wrestle once a month, do nothing really that anyone cares about, and feel untouchable. Main, you’re touchable. Like everyone else, you’re beatable. You’re not facing Shane

and Tristan Slater, which for the record, is a rather predictable outcome, you’re facing one of the greatest legends this sport has ever seen, and a fucking generational talent, an absolute fucking phenom.

You don’t have to like it, but once again, just because you don’t want it to be true, doesn’t make it any less of a fact. Facts don’t care about your feelings boys.

These assholes think they’re setting some kind of trend by holding hands and being all “you’re really good man” while the other is all like “no you’re really good man” and sit there verbally sucking each others dicks while Sons of Anarchy plays in the background or some shit, but I got news… every tag team champion that has come down the line has done the exact shame shit, only most of them were far more interesting and entertaining.

Doc and I? Yeah we operate a little different. It’s unorthodox, but it works. If it wasn’t working, you wouldn’t have waited until the last day to drop the rest of your useless played out shit that again, no one cares about but you.

This run you’ve had guys, I fear its given you a false sense of confidence. You laugh, you mock, you sit there in your echo chamber and repeat each other… that’s cute by the way. Transparent, but cute. Yet all the while, there’s this annoying little thorn in your side kid that just won’t stop. Just won’t shut up. Just won’t fall to the level that you want him to in order for you to make him easy pickin’s. Nah man, that just ain’t my thing.

You guys like to tell anyone that listens that no matter what happens to you guys, whether its good or bad, that it was all part of your master plan, but then you brag about the fact you buried my dad so let me ask you a question I know I’ll never hear the answer to: I came to Savage that night, don’t you think that if he or I wanted his career to continue that I’d have gotten there earlier? Do you think you would have buried him if I didn’t allow it to happen? I mean, lets face facts shall we? Anytime I have had even a little bit of help from someone against the two of you, whether it was my dad or Doc or anyone else… what did you two do?

Ran like scalded dogs.

Why?

Because one on one, you guys can’t tame me, can’t put me down. Two on one, you guys almost succeeded, but ya know what, you know I’mma still fight you because I don’t even give a fuck… two on two… you want no fucking part of because this “midcard” as you say, Thaddeus with an even side is just too big a mountain for your little motor bikes to climb.

Oh my god, all the facts!

Length wins championships.

Or wait, no. I think its… quality… you know, quality ring work.

I’ll let you think you guys dictated this whole thing to Doc and I, I really don’t care. Fact is while you were busy cramming some nonsense about running guns down our throat like Fat Peter Gilmour downs chicken parm, I was busy dropping actual quality content. So whatever moral victory you thought you were getting by dictating “length,” I gave it right back to you and so did Doc in the form of quality you could never hope to match.

The thing you don’t seem to understand is there is no vanity with Doc. He gets his fun by getting into peoples heads and I know I don’t have to like D’Ville. I don’t have to trust D’Ville. I don’t even have to agree with D’Ville. Fact is, he chose me, I didn’t choose him. I’m not the one that needs to worry about Louis D’Ville’s presence in this match.

You do. It’s you that drawn his ire, not me. He doesn’t need to appear in my hit pieces, nor I in his, to echo me and laugh with me at you two overgrown idiots like the two of you obviously do. Unlike the two of you, we can think for ourselves. Unlike you two, we have the confidence in ourselves and each other that the other guy is gonna do his part. That’s the kind of synchronization that can’t be taught, and it can’t be bought.

If that’s not at least some kind of trust on a professional level, then I don’t know what is.

The thing about great tag teams is, even the best have their wheels fall off. Even the best meet a team they just can’t beat. Even the best finally succumb to a team that’s just too good, too powerful to overcome and they reach the end of the road.

At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s tombstone gets etched. At High Stakes, Cataclysm’s reign of mehh comes to its final bell. At High Stakes, those Tag Team titles are changing hands and we won’t be giving them to anyone else, anytime soon. And boys, that’s just another fact that you’re just gonna have to live with. Thaddeus Duke and Louis D’Ville are walking into Tombstone, Arizona with guns drawn and we’re walking out having ended Cataclysm for good. You've had a mehh run, guys. And now its over.

Why?

Because we choose it.

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