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Thaddeus Duke · (07-10-2021)

Illuminatus Compound || Old Saybrook, Connecticut || 11:48 AM

...July 6 – Prior to Warfare...

With the million different things going on in my life lately, I haven’t really had time to just spend much one on one time with Frankie. He’s rejoined me on the road so that helps but it isn’t the same as quality time away from the cameras and the agents and the producers. On the road he’s subjected to insanity after insanity as it relates to the dozens of eccentric personalities that grace the XWF on a regular basis. Despite what they think of me personally, they’re all very kind to him. At home? It’s a totally different atmosphere without the XWF crazy. Warfare being in New York this week has my excited. One, because its the greatest city in the world and two, because it’s home and we can stay at home, drive to New York, and come back and sleep in our own beds.

Those little things matter. Especially when your life is as hectic as mine. Between television studios, media junkets, my regular life, the charities and the wrestling, as well as being a father, I overextend myself quite a bit. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not complaining, I signed up for every bit of it. But at the end of the day, the time I get to spend away from everything else and just be Thaddeus the regular guy, Thaddeus the father, now that’s the life.

Frankie has been hounding me for weeks to ride our dirt bikes on the course and I just unfortunately haven’t had time. Out of an abundance of caution, if I’m not out here with him, I don’t let him ride. I tried once and he proved quickly why I shouldn’t because he got too ballsy with no one watching and nearly broke his damn leg. That was the end of that. So after breakfast, today belonged to Frankie.

When I’m by myself, I’ll run the track like I’m Jeremy McGrath. When he’s with me, I usually just tail behind him and try to tutor him through the radios in our helmets. He’s come a long way from the little mini bike he used to ride. He’s brought it up a couple times that he wants to enter a circuit but I typically cut him off at the knees. I just don’t have that kind of time to dedicate to getting him an actual trainer and putting him in an organized circuit.

Despite the fortunate life he now lives where he’ll never struggle for anything, except maintaining sanity, it’s unfortunate that I can’t give him that. I’d love to, but with everything else, the time just isn’t there right now. Once I’ve completed my contractual obligations to the various television projects I’m connected to, I’ll be able to re-evaluate things, move things around and make time for it.

”Thad?” he calls to me through his mic. ”Am I getting better at this?”

”You’re doin’ phenomenally well buddy, just keep at it.”

He throttles up to take a mound and jump over the next three before landing gracefully and speeding off into a turn. ”You always say that when your schedule lightens up you’ll think about...” his voice trails off as he takes another jump. ”...think about letting me join a circuit.”

”Yeah and I mean it,” I reply to him quickly. ”When time allows, we’ll find you a circuit and a real trainer.”

”Thad?” he calls out as he glances up toward the house. ”Linc is waving you over.”

Glancing up at the house, I dial down my throttle and turn off course toward Tritter. ”With me Frankie.” Coming to a stop by Tritter, I kill the engine as Frankie pulls up beside me.

”You’re not supposed to be out here,” I tell him facetiously. ”What part of ‘just take care of it’ did you people not understand?” Tritter just shoots me a slight grin. ”What’s up?” I ask of him after raising my visor.

”Boss, we have a situation,” he says in his typical stoic kind of way.

”What kind of situation?”

”The urgent kind,” he says unamused.

Glancing over at Frankie, he kind of already ‘gets’ it. ”I’ll put my bike in the garage,” he says with obvious disappointment.

”I’m sorry,” I call after him. ”We’ll pick this up later.”

Frankie doesn’t answer back. He’s a trooper though and he understands what’s happening. Duty calls and it’s my job to answer that call. Begrudgingly, I step off my bike and remove my helmet. Once Frankie is out of ear shot I deliver a backhand chop to Tritter’s chest.

”This better be fuckin’ good Linc,” I warn him as I storm off toward the house. Tritter rushes to catch up with me.

”I guess that’ll depend on your definition of ‘good’,” Tritter replies with an uncharacteristic attempt at humor.

”Lincoln, I’m not kidding. I’ve been looking forward to today for a long time man. Frankie and I don’t get the quality time like we used to,” I say as we enter the big house.

”I know Boss,” he says with a slap on my shoulder. ”If it wasn’t big, I wouldn’t have interrupted.”

”This is a big deal huh?” I ask him just outside the Sit Room. He just slowly nods in response as we enter.

Inside the Situation Room, my military chiefs are present along with some of Tritter’s team leaders in his Intelligence department. As Tritter and I enter, they all begin to to scramble to their feet.

”Keep your seats folks,” I say as I near the head of the table. ”Seems silly to be formal when I’m wearing Fox motocross gear.”

Taking my seat, the room falls quiet a moment as I start to peruse some files. ”Tritter, what do we got? Start us off,” I instruct him as he remains standing.

”With the coordinated, multi-pronged offensive against the Ares Project a few months ago in the South, we thought we had them right where we wanted them,” my Intel Chief begins.

”We are still tapped into their satellites?”

”We are,” Tritter replies. ”But it doesn’t matter so much when they’ve taken all of their satellites offline.”

”We still have eyes on the six remaining locations that we’re aware of?”

”We do,” Tritter answers. ”They’ve abandoned locations and had gone dark. There was nothing to report because there wasn’t anything to track. The Ares Project went off the grid.”

”You’re speaking in past tense,” I point out. ”I assume that you pulled me away from my play date with Frankie in order to no longer use past tense verbiage?”

He nods slowly.

”Well let’s hear it then.” Before continuing on, Tritter grabs the remote control and points at the wall with a click. An image of the rotating Earth appears on the screen.

”They’ve begun resurfacing over the last few days,” he says with a click. ”Here at home,” he says and little blips light up in the Southwest United States. ”Some locations we knew of, some new to us.”

With a click of the remote, the satellite image focuses on the Eastern Hemisphere and blips all over Europe.

”We’ve detected Ares Project chatter in Scotland, Germany, Poland, France and Italy,” he informs us.

”They’re preparing for something,” I say as I stand up and take a look at the map. ”Why Scotland though?”

”You own a house there,” Tritter answers.

”Yeah but I own a penthouse in New York too… didn’t see any blips in New York.”

”They’re designated terrorists now, they wouldn’t hit here at home.”

”Gee,” I say aloud, adopting a mocking tone of voice. ”What ever will I do without my vacation home?” Turning to my staff, ”I’d just buy another.”

”There’s more,” he interrupts my jokes. ”There is currently an envoy from U.S. Intelligence en route. They should be here momentarily.”

”Colonel Sanders,” I say, turning my head toward the Air Force General.

”Uhhh,” he mumbles as he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. ”It’s General, sir.”

”Yeah but that’s not nearly as funny,” I say with a slight smile. ”Put all bases on the highest alert.”

”Yes sir.”

”I don’t want a repeat of the Berlin attack from last year General,” I continue on. ”Have reinforcements on standby in case of attack and I want patrol drones in our air space. If they’re coming, I want everyone prepared to defend themselves.”

”Consider it done sir,” General Sanders replies and I give him a nod.

Just then, the door opens and the American envoy, all of one person, enters the Situation Room with a leather satchel in hand. He’s a middle aged man looking like his late 50’s. If I said he was a towering 5’8” I think that’d be a reach. The man is scrawny and looks like the uptight no nonsense empty suit you see all over political television dramas.

He stops and looks around the room, then extends his hand to Lincoln Tritter. ”Mr. Duke it’s nice to meet you.”

I throw my arms up in an incredulous “what the actual fuck” kind of way. ”Uhhh,” I interject. ”That’s me.”

The man turns his head to me as he shakes Tritter’s hand. In response to this nonsense, Tritter uncharacteristically lets out a chuckle.

”Seriously?” the man asks.

I only shrug in response.

”What are you? 19?”

”22,” I answer defensively.

He smiles a little and extends his hand to me.

”I don’t even know if I wanna shake your hand now,” I say to him while acting as if my feelings were hurt.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says. ”I expected some wise, experienced ruler. Not a child.”

”You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that at your height,” I joke. It catches him off guard and he sort of side eyes me.

”Agent Richard Small, CIA,” he says with an extended hand.

Giving him a shake, ”Dick Small… is that descriptive in nature?” I ask with a smile and he sighs, then releases my hand before giving me a chuckle. ”Alright, stop all this juvenile chatter, all of you!” I cry out as a joke. ”What you got for us, Richard?”

”In tracking the known accounts of the Ares Project we’ve discovered some alarming evidence,” he begins as he and I take our seats. ”We discovered a pattern. Huge spikes,” he says as he pulls a few pages from a ‘Confidential’ stamped folder out of his satchel.

”Sweet purse,” I joke.

”It’s a satchel,” he says without missing a beat. ”Steep declines,” he points out as he slides a chart over to me. ”Followed up with even more spikes.”

”I’m just a baby, dumb this down for me,” I tell him and he shoots me a frown. ”No I’m serious, peaks and valleys don’t really tell me anything.” He doesn’t say anything in response, instead he puts his finger on a detail I missed: the amount of money they’re working with.

”Oh shit,” I react before leaning back in my chair. ”That means they got new funding.”

Agent Small nods his head. ”Up until your attack on them in the South, what’d they have?”

”A few hundred grand,” I answer him. ”I’d have to look but they might’ve hit a million a time or two.”

”Hundreds of millions is significantly more than a single million, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks facetiously, playing into my youth. ”Whoever is funding them now, no doubt has a lot of resources. You had them on the ropes and now they’re regrouping and in a large way.

“Our estimates show that their numbers are on the rise too. Their newfound fortunes would suggest better training for their men and women, not to mention more and better munitions in which to fight you.”

”Is this the extent of your knowledge?” I ask of Agent Small. He nods in response. ”Linc, did you and him go to the same Spook School?” I jokingly ask of Tritter. Agent Small just shakes his head.

”See the joke is that Lincoln Tritter here often gives me information like this, but nothing of real substance,” I say, turning to Richard. ”You could’ve sent this in a fucking text bro. Instead, you’re ruining my play date with my son.”

”How old is your son?”

”I have three kids,” I answer him and he looks at me with a shocked expression. ”The twins are about six weeks old and Frankie is ten.”

”You’re 22 with a ten year old?”

”I started having sex very young,” I joke as he and I both stand up and begin heading for the door. ”He’s adopted.”

”That’s admirable,” he replies. ”Mr. Duke...”

”Just Thaddeus,” I interrupt.

”I wish I had more information for you,” he says with a shake of our hands. ”Intelligence gathering can be slow but while the official position of the United States government is one of a neutral stance, the President has instructed the Intelligence community to lend a hand to your efforts whenever possible.

“We don’t have any of their men or women in custody. If we did, we might have more information about what they’re planning and who’s funding them.”

”You don’t have anyone in custody, but I sure as shit do,” I inform him with a smile. ”Lincoln, escort Mr. Wallace to the situation room.”

As Tritter goes to retrieve our prisoner, Richard and I return to our seats and I dismiss the rest of my staff. While we wait, we compare histories and it turns out that Richard was a Gulf War veteran before entering the spy game. After, we compared different war stories and families until Tritter re-enters with Brad Wallace. Lincoln sits him down and removes the black hood covering his head.

”Brad, how are you feeling today?” He waits to respond as he blinks several times in an effort to adjust his eyes to the lighting.

”Fine I guess,” he answers quietly.

”He came into our possession when he foolishly hijacked my plane and put my sons life at risk,” I inform Richard. ”Brad this is Sammy Samson,” I tell him, referring to Richard. ”He’s an official with the United States government and he has some questions for you.”

”Okay.”

”Or wait, maybe it was Tommy Thompson?”

”Doesn’t matter,” Small replies as he stands to his feet. Sitting back, I just stay quiet and wait for Richard to do his thing. ”You look well, Mr. Wallace. They’re treating you well, I take it?”

Brad nods his head. ”Three meals a day,” Brad answers. ”A comfortable bed to sleep in. Air conditioning, heat. If not for being a prisoner behind bars sir, I wouldn’t know I was in prison.”

”Brad, I’ll level with you,” he begins. ”I need whatever information you can give me about the Ares Project and their plans,” he says as he turns his head in my direction. ”Give me what you can and maybe the Illuminatus State and I can come to some sort of agreement and get you into an actual facility.

“How’s that sound?”

”I-I-I’ll give you whatever information I can sir,” Brad agrees.

”We’ve recently discovered that the Ares Project has a new source of funding. Do you know who they are?”

”I don’t,” he answers. ”I’ve been detached from the Project since January. I do know that General McGovern had meetings in Europe leading up to, during and after the attack on the Illuminatus base in Germany. I don’t know the details, but I know the meetings were taking place somewhere in Italy, or at least, with Italian people.”

”Very good,” Richard replies. ”How do you know the meetings were with Italians?”

”Because McGovern was on the phone speaking Italian,” he answers quickly. ”I’m not fluent, but I can understand some of it. A lot of ‘new money’ phrasing in those conversations.”

”Are you aware of any plans that would require such an influx of cash?”

”Yeah,” again Brad answers quickly. ”McGovern needed more money because his funds were running dry. He talked candidly quite often sir, that he needed a way to combat the Illuminatus Air Force.”

”They are quite the marvel, aren’t they?” Small asks of him rhetorically. ”Do you know how he planned to counter the Air Force?”

”No sir, not specifically. But I do know he was in contact with Russians about some decommissioned naval vessels.”

”Thank you Bradley,” he says before turning his attention to Linc. ”Mr. Tritter, that’ll be all for now. See Mr. Wallace back to his cell.”

Tritter escorts Brad from the room after replacing the hood upon his head.

”Well Thaddeus, this has been entertaining no doubt and it was a pleasure to meet all of you...”

”Oh, the pleasure was all yours,” I joke.

”Yes well, let’s hope I never have to come here again,” he jokes as we exit the Situation Room and head toward the main entrance.

”You really wanna discuss transferring Wallace to a facility?” I inquire.

”No one gives a shit about some enemy terrorist foot soldier Thaddeus,” he replies as we reach the opened doors. ”When you’ve gotten everything you can from him… you know what to do.” Hesitantly, I nod. I hadn’t really thought about what to do with him long term.

”This was a lot different than I expected,” he says with a shake of my hand before starting down the steps.

”Hey Dick?” I call out to him from the doorway. He stops and turns his head toward me. ”Whatever they’re paying you,” I pause a moment to make sure I mean it. ”I’ll double it.”

He laughs uncomfortably for a second but notices me not laughing with him. ”You’re serious?”

Initially I only nod in response. ”Lincoln is good at what he does but he’s limited by the abilities of his team. I could always use another set of expert eyes and ears.”

My initial assumptions of Agent Small were wrong. I expected a buttoned up miniature version of Lincoln Tritter, but what I got was the total opposite and overall a pleasant experience with a man in the same game that doesn’t take himself too seriously.

”I’ll think about it,” he finally says as he continues down the steps toward the car.

”Will you for real?” He pauses as he’s about to climb in and leans against the door.

”Real talk?” he asks and I give him a nod. ”On the surface, I’d legitimately be interested. But jumping from one nations IC to another? That’s frowned upon in the spy business.”

”I wouldn’t add you to Illuminatus Intelligence, Dick. I need a new Chief of Staff,” I answer back. ”My current C.O.S., he’s… not gonna be with us much longer.” I stop short of telling him more than he needs to know. Fact is, Jim is sick as hell today and he’s been in bed. Richard nods at me and enters the car before it rolls down the drive.

I think for the first time, I’m beginning to accept the fact that my best friend is nearing the end of his life. It hurts to think about, but at the same time, I have a nation to run and while Jim’s pending doom is no doubt sad and painful… life goes on.

I have been looking forward to this for a long, long time.

It’s the truth.

So as much as someone would like to claim I was ‘backpedaling’ when I said my schedule was filled up, the fact of the matter is I’m a busy man with no shortage of people that want to get in the ring with me. They all have their motives and reasons to be sure. Whether they want to shut me up, I mean good luck, many have tried yet no one has been able to do it. Or whether they respect the work I’ve put forth in the XWF. The end result is the same though and that’s more eyeballs and on their product through me.

And I’m happy to do it.

Before we discuss why I’ve been looking forward to this match, lets first discuss how this match came about to begin with and why it was Robert Main challenging little old me to a match… through twitter, of all places. It started out friendly enough. I don’t hold any ill will toward Robert, but he saw himself in a little pissing contest with Robbie Bourbon and I happened upon that little thread saying I’d love to see Main versus Bourbon where Main even alluded to facing Bourbon.

By the way, I have receipts for every god damn thing so his best bet is to own up to his own stupidity which we all know he has in fucking spades.

Back to my story.

After throwing down his challenge to Bourbon and me saying I’d love to see it, he then backpedals his own challenge to Bourbon and tells me “go look at all the times I beat him before.” I’m paraphrasing, of course. So in response and doing the little part of me that likes to promote the XWF and unofficially help book things people would like to see, I throw up this harmless little joke: maybe I wanna sit in a suite with my kid and watch it LIVE. That was of course, before telling him he sucks at this ‘good guy’ thing because he does.

He then proceeds to throw down a challenge to me for telling him the truth about himself and during the course of that challenge, like a spoiled little toddler that’s never heard the phrase “okay but in a little while”, demanded it right then and there.

That was never gonna happen because as I told him, and so many others behind the curtain already know, that my schedule fills up quickly because an in-demand name such as myself has callers from all corners of the company trying to come for me. Unlike him, I don’t sit around and hope someone books me or takes notice of my Omega charisma… Rolls eyes, jack off hand motion. I’m active. I’m a part of this company and as such, I’m around to mix it up with the little people, the medium people and the big people (I dumbed that down so Robert could understand) whereas Robert clearly just waits around, has his one match per month, then goes home and wonders why no one outside of Chris Page gives a fuck about him anymore.

I mean, the War Games Draft was just held and his own Apex Legacy teammate Betsy Granger was a captain. Not only did she not draft Robert Main, you know, the guy that’ll boast until our ears bleed that he’s never lost at War Games… she even actively avoided it.

What does it say when your own ally doesn’t even pick you? Main could argue that it was a miscalculation on Betsy’s part but I’d argue that with the exception of Demos... and we all now how intelligent he is… that this XWF roster knows that if you want something of mileage out of anything Apex related, you pick Jim Caedus or Drew Archyle.

Because Robert Main’s best days are long gone. And why are they long gone? Because this roster is just too fucking strong for him to be the dominant Robert Main of yesteryear. And the only person that remember Main’s past dominance fondly… is Robert Fucking Main.

He accused me of ‘backpedaling’ because I wouldn’t cave to his demand immediately.

He told me I suck and I laughed really hard at that because it seems like a bad strategy even on twitter to say something so demonstrably false. Even worse strategy to say that a guy that beat you… Sucks. Of course, without Page backing him up, which surprisingly was the apparent brain power of the former Cataclysm duo, he resorts to Doc. Doc carried me when we beat them… did y’all know that?

’High Stakes 2020:’ Said:Page slides into the ring where he goes after the second ladder and sets it up next to the first one!

Main reaches up for the titles where he puts his hands on one of the belts before Doc is there to gouge him in the eyes! Doc hammers Main with a right hand!

Page turns to find Thad when he walks into the BETTER THAN YOU HEAT SEEKER SUPERKICK!

Page spills over the top rope and crashes down to the floor!

Main fires at Doc landing the right hand! He lands a second right hand that has Doc teetering! Suddenly Thaddeus pushes the Ladder over sending Doc and Main sailing over the top rope and crashing down to the floor!

That’s beautiful isn’t it?

D’Ville carried me though.

Page eats the kick. Doc and Main atop the ladder clawing and scratching at each other like a couple preteen girls arguing over which member of BTS is cuter…

But wait! I’m not done yet!

There’s more!

’High Stakes 2020:’ Said:There’s nothing stopping Thaddeus as he starts to climb the Ladder! Duke reaches the half way point before continuing his climb and with nobody in the mix he’s able to reach up and pull the Tag Titles down!

Thaddeus drops from the very top of the ladder and lands flat on the canvas holding both titles. He lies there for a moment as his music hits and the Doctor slides into the ring after taking a bad spill due to his partner doing whatever it took for victory. Thaddeus is to his knees now and stares down at both of the titles. Looking up, Doc is standing in front of him with a big, toothy grin from ear to ear…. Thad looks at the titles, one in each hand, and hands up one to the Doctor.

This is an example of receipts, Main. If you’re gonna talk shit, you better be able to back it up with receipts. The usual bullshit of telling everyone which bones of mine, how many of them and how badly you’ll break them can stay on the playground in 6th grade recess. That shit just ain’t gonna cut it, brother.

Doc didn’t kick Page’s teeth down his throat. Doc didn’t push the ladder over. It’d be pretty hard since he was on top of it cat fighting with Robert Main. Doc didn’t climb the ladder while the three others laid in a broken mess. Doc didn’t retrieve the tag belts. Doc didn’t hand himself the other tag strap.

That was me.

That was all me.

The argument that D’Ville carried me against Cataclysm is dead before it begins. And it was never a good one to begin with.

And I’m not sure getting into a pissing match over who carried who and when is a topic that he really wants to get into. Maybe it wasn’t clear then, but it is now… and I don’t even have to finish that thought because everyone knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Robert Main says he does his talking in the ring and that’s fine. Talking in a promo isn’t everyone’s bag and while I’m not an insult spewing machine like some, and I don’t rely on humor like some, I know I can hold my own with most everyone in this setting. But in that setting Robert… in the ring… I’m pretty fuckin’ good at talking in there too.

That brings us to the second topic of discussion. Why have I been looking forward to this for a long time?

First and foremost I think Robert Main is a buyer of his own hype and I thoroughly enjoyed beating him the first time. Unlike Robert, I’m not gonna say something so idiotic like he has and say that he sucks. While I firmly believe his best days are in the past, he doesn’t suck. He’s pretty damn good and the accolades and championships he has in his collection are impressive and one day I’m sure he’ll take his place in the Hall.

The fact is though, he heard enough people figuratively sucking his dick over the years and telling him just how great he is that he honestly thinks he’s the best to ever do it. I’ve said it before that the name Duke is the true measuring stick around here and not only is that the case, but since the last Duke that claimed it, I’ve raised the bar exponentially.

I am the fucking standard. Elite from head to fuckin' toe, Robert. And you're about to find that out first hand all over again because you were too fucking stupid to recognize it the first time. One on one with no excuses. No weapons. No outside interference. Just you. Just me, and the better man will win.

Spoiler alert: The Lionheart adopts a whisper momentarily: Thad wins.

Pure wrestling rules. Man against man. No Corey's, no Doc's. No Page's. No Continuum's, no Apex's, no Legacies... (that last one shouldn't be a problem.)

During our run up to High Stakes… and I don’t need to remind everyone just how historic that night was… ole Busted Brain Main insisted he’d be coming after me if I won the Universal title.

The reality is that I was begging him to come for me and that stands as true today as it was then. I wanted him to come for me because I wanted the chance to shut his overconfident ass down and now I finally have the chance to do it, one on one. See, I promised him, and by extension Chris Page, a reality check way back then and I delivered that reality check.

Now I have the chance to serve up another reality check and if he thinks this is somehow gonna be easy for him, that it’s gonna be some cakewalk and he’s gonna coast right to the winners circle, and he already suggested as much in our dust up on twitter… then he’s already lost. There’s three things you never do in the XWF:

One- you don’t use Vinnie Lane’s Aquanet without asking.

Two- you don’t hide Corey’s used underwear from Alias… it’s odd I know, but Alias is an odd guy.

And the third… you NEVER underestimate Thaddeus Duke.

You've already broken the third one, so here it is Main. You have the chance to sit me down and shut me up that came about primarily because I hurt your fee fees on the big mean twitter machine. No backpedaling needed, because that’s not something I do. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no fear. I never back away from a challenge and while you had to wait a little while, that’s really nothing compared to the wait you’ve forced Thunder Knuckles to endure, is it? The guys only been trying to get a match with you for like a year or some shit and maybe I should’ve told you what you told him: “take a number.” But then I would’ve robbed myself the opportunity to make you look like an even bigger idiot than you already are.

If I’m Robert Main and Thunder Knuckles busts my skull open… I’m comin’ for him. Proof that I’m that guy? Only look at the final Savage and final Warfare before High Stakes. I’m fresh off an injury at the hands of two men… Page and Main… and I delivered to Page what he had coming to him. As ass kicking on Savage. The very next Warfare, Page and I are at it again and the entire roster couldn’t keep us apart. Enter Robert Main. He and Page do a number on me and I just keep on tickin’.

I have never backed down even with the odds clearly not in my favor. So I’ll be damned if I start with Robert Main.

But that’s the difference between men like me and men like Robert Main. Someone busts me up, I’m comin’ right back for them. Someone busts him up and says mean things about him, he avoids it like the mother fucking plague.

See, Robert Main goes into this match full of hot air and hyperbole. Full of false confidence and bravado. That famous Robert Main toxic and simultaneously fragile masculinity thinking he can beat me. He thinks he can, but he has yet to prove that. In our short but so so sweet history together… I know I can beat him because I already have and on Warfare… I’mma do it again.

Say whatever you want about me Robert. Fact is, there's two people... TWO... that can claim victory over me over the last year plus. One of them is Chris Page... and the other's not you.

Thaddeus Duke, one.

Robert Main, zero.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Ares Rising - Part I: RP 1
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