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Thaddeus Duke · (09-25-2021)

DAYS AGO

Woolworth Tower || Tribeca – New York City || 7:16 PM

Lowering the pistol to my side, I lean down and cradle Jim’s head in my left arm while sobbing nearly uncontrollably into his left shoulder. I wanted to take his pain away so much. To see him laying here barely able to move and mostly unable to function is killing me inside. It’s excruciating for me and I’m only a bystander. Whatever I’m going through, it pales in comparison to what he’s going through. Even still, I couldn’t shoot him in the head as if he were a horse with a broken leg. He deserves more respect and dignity than that.

”I’m sorry Jim,” I say through my sobs as the nurse rushes in.

”What happened!?” she cries out with worry.

”Just get the fuck out of here,” I reply to her quietly, not removing my head from Jim’s shoulder and certainly not wanting to let go of my hug.

”Is there something I can...”

Listen, I realize she’s just doing her job, but I couldn’t see that at the time. Out of anger and frustration, I spin around to face her. With my face beet red, my eyes swollen and tears steadily rolling down my face, I lash out.

”WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!?” I ask her angrily before she quickly retreats out of the room.

”Mate…. She was just….. startled,” he advises me as I spin back around to him.

”I know, I just...” I cut myself off as I wipe the tears from my eyes and face while still holding the pistol. ”I just need to be here with you until...”

”I know,” he says quietly with a nod.

”Anyway, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that,” I say to him while attempting to recompose myself. ”I’ve killed a lot of people in the last five years but never once have I killed anyone I love.”

”I know,” he says quietly. ”I shouldn’t have……. Put you…… in that position….. I’m sorry.”

Unreal.

He’s the one suffering and dying, yet he’s the one apologizing to [/i]me.[/i]

”Don’t be sorry for anything,” I tell him. ”I just couldn’t have my lasting image of you to be your brains splattered on the wall and I’m the one that put ‘em there.”

He nods his understanding.

”If there was another way, I’d...”

”There is,” he interrupts. ”Another way,” he says after a breath.

He and I stare at each other a moment before he turns his head slightly and eyes the morphine drip.

”That won’t go high enough to kill you,” I inform him and he nods his understanding. ”All it’ll do is knock you out like you have been for the last couple weeks.”

”I know,” he says with his labored breathing. Lifting his left arm a little, he points to a medical cart resting against the wall. ”But there’s…….. syringes in……… the cart,” he stops talking for several seconds to catch his breath that isn’t coming, even with the oxygen mask attached to his face. ”Grab a couple……….. open the door,” he says, eyeballing the small door on the drip machine. Behind the door is the bag of morphine. ”Fill them up………….. and stick it in me….”

”Jim, I wouldn’t even know how much would stop your heart,” I plead with him in an effort to get him to stop asking me to kill him.

”She gives me…..” he pinches his fingers close together. ”This much……….. to help the pain.”

”I thought you said you felt the pain even when you’re unconscious,” I remind him.

”I think she……..” he begins with a confirming nod. ”Knocks me out……. So she doesn’t…… have to hear me.”

”Even still,” I continue to protest. ”I wouldn’t know how much to...”

”Fill two,” he pleads. ”Inject both.”

”Jim that’ll give you a massive heart attack,” I protest again.

”That’s the,” he begins, trying to smile. ”Whole point,” he concludes.

Turning my head to look at the cart, I finally relent. ”What if it hurts?” I ask of him as I retrieve a couple syringes and open the little door on the morphine pump.

”It can’t hurt……… more than……… it does now,” he replies with a considerable pause as he begins to smile a little. ”And then…….. it’ll be over………… peace.”

Hesitating while I fight the urge to just exit the room and leave Jim laying here, the first syringe is just an inch or two away from puncturing the bag.

PRESENT DAY

Landing on board the aircraft carrier Vengeance and coming to a full stop way faster than I’m used to, I just about sprain my neck from the whiplash. Opening the canopy, I step out of the jet and climb down the ladder to the deck surface while the crewmen work hard and fast to replenish and refuel all of the aircraft.

In deep thought, I retreat toward the mess hall. On my way there, I can’t help but smile as Jim intercepts my path.

”How’d it go mate?” he asks, returning a smile.

”Four or five were sunk in total and our fleet hasn’t even reached them yet,” I inform him as we walk and talk. ”At the risk of sounding entirely cocky, this might be way too easy.”

No sooner do I finish my statement and I can hear the sound of deck cannons being cleared coming across the water.

”I think the fleet has arrived,” he says with a smile as we both turn our attention toward the sea. Aborting our mission to head to the mess, he and I rush over toward the side of the carrier in order to watch for a minute. As we arrive at the railing, the evidence is clear as day as small fireballs shoot from our ships toward theirs.

”Wait,” I say with a scrunched up face. ”Where the hell is the Godzilla?”

Jim and I scan the surface for the gigantic all black warship with its supposedly impenetrable hull.

”There!” Jim calls out, pointing to the other side of the carrier.

”Well why the fuck is she so far behind?” I inquire to my greatest friend.

”You gotta remember, mate,” he begins his answer. ”She’s big, powerful and strong.”

”The trade off was speed,” I complete his thought.

”Right,” he confirms. ”Plus she’s turning, so she appears even slower than she really is.”

”Sir!” calls out the High Admiral of the Navy. Turning in his direction, I can see him at almost a sprint as he comes toward me. ”Leviathan is in trouble,” he informs me as we hear an extremely loud explosion off in the distance. The three of us look out to sea and one of the Ares Project ships breaks apart on the surface before the Atlantic quickly swallows her up.

”What’s the problem?” I ask, returning my attention to the Admiral.

”She’s stuck in the reef,” he replies. ”She was outrunning the enemy and didn’t realize they were running right into a reef and they have to surface.”

”If they surface again, the Ares Project fleet will sink her,” I advise him and he nods in agreement.

”We’ve already turned Godzilla in their direction with the intent to head off the enemy fleet before they can catch her,” he informs me and I nod my approval.

”Can they back up?”

”If they do that, they’re reversing course right underneath the enemy ship,” he replies with worry.

”So their only option is to stay put and hope Godzilla gets there in time,” I conclude on my own while the Admiral nods his confirmation. ”FUCK!”

”It’s worse than that,” the Admiral advises. ”The water there is fairly shallow and the enemy is using depth charges to find her and force her to the surface.”

Another series of explosions come from the sea battle. Looking briefly, two of my ships are going down. The cruiser Judgment and the destroyer Thunder.

”They’re starting to even the score mate,” Jim interjects.

Once the Judgment is under water, it becomes clear we got one of theirs too. Six of their ships remain with a seventh chasing Leviathan to six of ours, not including Godzilla who is racing toward Leviathan’s position.

”No, they’re already even,” I say aloud in response to Jim.

”What’s even?” the Admiral asks and I look at him briefly before looking back out to sea.

”Nothing,” I reply, covering my own ass. ”I was just thinking out loud.”

”Sir!” interrupts my air force General. ”They’re ready for you,” he informs me, referring to the flight crew.

Time to go back up. Eyeballing a Jim a moment, I just stay quiet.

”Come back in one piece again, will you mate?” he asks.

In return, I just smile and nod before rushing back toward my plane. I really did have to piss, that’s why I was headed toward the mess hall to begin with because it has the closest latrine. Instead, my bladder will have to wait. As I near the flight deck, the first of the bombers takes off. In contrast to the first wave of this mission which was an offensive assault on the Ares Project fleet, this one is defensive in nature. This time, we provide covering fire for the bombers.

Climbing the ladder to board my jet, another bomber is up and away with another racing down the runway.

Now its my turn.

Closing the canopy, I close my eyes a moment and think of Jim.

”You here?” I ask as I pull my helmet on and secure my mask.

”Of course I’m here,” he answers over my radio.

”It’s really not the same without you fighting alongside me bro,” I admit to him. ”It just doesn’t have the same… I don’t know the word for it.”

”LeoCor, you’re clear for launch,” comes the call over the radio.

”Pizzazz?” he questions. ”Panache?”

”Ha! Yeah we’ll go with that one,” I reply with a smile. With the push of a button, my jet shoots down the runway and once more, I’m airborne.

”What’s it like taking off from a carrier?” he asks.

”Faster,” I answer with a chuckle.

”Sir, the enemy has forced Leviathan to the surface,” comes the call from the High Admiral.

”Alright Jim, I gotta go for awhile,” I inform him. ”I’ll see you when I’m through.”

”Wouldn’t miss it,” he replies. ”Stay safe mate.”

Looking out my left side, I can see Leviathan as she breaches the surface. I can also see the enemy ship trying to use deck guns on her like idiots. The rounds are gonna batter her up, but they’re not gonna sink her. Pointing my nose toward the enemy ship, I fire a missile.

”Fox One!” I call out as the streak of light flies off toward the bow of the ship. It strikes the side and causes its crewmen to jump out of the way, but they work quickly to regain their feet and prepare torpedoes. I was aiming for the deck and their stack of torpedoes but I didn’t wait for my weapons system to lock on the target.

Swinging out and around to my right, I see Godzilla closing in fast on the enemy. She begins clearing her deck cannons and the enemy does the same. Each shell from the enemy bounces off the great ship barely even rocking her on her keel, just as I was promised. The enemy aims higher, toward the superstructure of the black battleship. They pelt her with rounds, trying to take out the men and women contained within rather than taking out the ship since they just learned they don’t have the fire power to sink her.

What they don’t know, is that the crew of that ship works either on or below decks. The superstructure on it only exists for aesthetic reasons. It probably sounds stupid, but think of a ship with no superstructure. Now that’s silly.

”What the fuck?” I say aloud to myself. ”They’re not even slowing down.” Below me, I keep a watchful eye on the action as my incoming missile warnings go off. Nonchalantly I drop flares and keep on flying around, watching as Godzilla steers her bow right into the side of Leviathan’s tormentor. Not in time though as the enemy ship fired a pair of torpedoes.

Leviathan tries to dive and avert disaster, but it’s all for naught. Seconds after Leviathan slips beneath the waves, the aftershock of her exploding is evident on the surface.

”God dammit,” I say aloud to myself. Leviathan’s crew will not have gone down in vain. Her sacrifices will be felt and acknowledged as heroic for generations. She lead the enemy right into the trap and their ships are going down left and right. With them, McGovern’s fighting men.

The attacking ship was practically split in two by Godzilla but her bow is jammed within the hull of the enemy as my fuel warning sounds. Back to the carrier I go.

DAYS AGO

After filling the syringes with the potent Morphine, I sit beside his bed just looking at him. Months ago, I watched my mother die. I tried hard to get to her and to stop my dad from doing what he did but I was powerless. It was the past and as Stephen King put it in some of his writing, “the past is obdurate, it doesn’t want to be changed.” Anytime I took a step forward, I’d get run into or knocked down and fall back two.

I feel now much the same way I did then. No matter how you slice it, no matter whether the cancer takes him, a lethal dose of morphine does it, or a bullet in his brain, there’s no stopping it. Today, tomorrow, a week, a month, Jim will die and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Death bargains with no one.

It waits for no one.

Setting the syringes down on the tray table, I pick up his hand and hold it to my cheek. His dying blue eyes look into mine.

”I don’t know if I can do it,” I admit to him quietly. ”You’re leaving and I don’t know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to give you that cocktail and just carry on like nothing happened. Like I didn’t do it.”

”You’re the…….. most courageous person…….. I’ve ever known,” he begins before attempting to unsuccessfully clear his throat. ”You can do…….. anything you……. Put your mind to.”

”This is different,” I argue. ”It’s easy when its them or me. This is just… it’s just you.”

With his hand still against my cheek, he weakly grabs my hair and pulls my head to his upper chest. Not resisting him, I just lay there. It’s in this moment, that I think I get it.

”You hear that?” he asks. Silently, I nod and continue to listen. With each breath he takes his lungs gurgle almost as if he were drowning. His heart beat is arrhythmic will no discernible pattern. ”Each breath…….. is a dull dagger……… my heart races…….. like trying to……. Escape its fate.”

Lifting my head from his chest I look at him silently for a moment, then nod once. It really is mercy. Giving into his desires to end his life, in a way, beats the cancer that’s trying it’s damnedest to kill him. I think it’s ingrained in human DNA to want to have a say, to have control over what happens when we die. Most of us never have to give it thought and we die peacefully in our sleep. Jim, and the millions of people around the world just like him that have to struggle in their waning days, in a way, I suppose, this is his way of denying his disease the right to kill him.

How could I deny him that right? He was dealt a shit hand by his maker but that doesn’t mean he can’t have the last laugh and steal death from his cancers grip. Contrary to popular opinion, cancer never wins, it’s almost always a draw. The only way to victory when your cancer is terminal and inoperable? Kill the cancer before it kills you. And the only way to do that is by taking matters into your own hands.

With tears steady rolling now, I pick up the syringes. I remember talking to his doctor back in Connecticut. The maximum amount of morphine he was allowed in an entire day was 50mg due to fears that he’d accidentally overdose. As if death by accidental overdose is somehow more traumatic than terminal cancer.

In my hands, is four times the allowable daily limit and about to be injected into him all at one time. “Maybe we should consult with someone first,” I suggest. He just looks at me. ”I mean, what if it’s not enough and you just lay there suffering in your unconscious state?”

Lifting his arm from his side, he just points at the heart monitor.

”Good point,” I relent with a sigh. Mustering all the strength he can, he makes a fist. Grabbing his closed fist I point the first syringe to his bulging vein and pause, and look up at him. He nods. With the never ending tears in my eyes, I stop hesitating and drive the needle into his skin, injecting the poison.

Then I do the same with the second.

Sitting with his hand in mine, he smiles at me.

”Thank you,” he says quietly, with tears in his own eyes. ”For everything.”

”I’ll miss you,” I say while choking back my emotion that’s intent on coming out whether I want it to or not.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Just a few seconds later his heart rate is growing erratic and he squeezes my hand as hard as he can.

”I’m free, Thad,” he says as his eyes roll back in his head a moment before he falls unconscious. The alarms on his vital monitors start going crazy with beeps and bells. His heart monitor is spiking heavily as the nurse rushes in.

”Sir! Move aside!” she instructs me.

”That won’t be necessary,” I inform her coldly just before she takes a step forward. ”NOT ANOTHER STEP!”

”He has no DNR and no living will,” she informs me as she takes that step. ”I have a duty to try and save him!” She cries out as she rounds my back. ”What’d you do?” she asks, spying the two syringes on the tray table.

Not wanting to argue with her, I pull my pistol from my thigh and backhand her in the temple. She falls groggily to the floor. His grip on my hand is so tight now and his body shakes a bit involuntarily. In the moment, seconds crawl by at a snails pace but in real time, it’s all over quickly.

Just like that, James Edwards ceases to exist.

”I love you Jim,” I say quietly as I sob quiet tears into his chest.

PRESENT DAY

Back on board the Vengeance, I sit upon the deck and watch as the last of our bombs are dropped on the Ares Project fleet. They’re down to just two ships still afloat. Whatever anti-aircraft firepower they might have had aboard their vessels was never going to be enough without proper training. With Godzilla still locked in the hull of Leviathan’s killer, and what’s left of their fleet in retreat, I can rest soundly but with one eye open. The battle is won, but the war isn’t yet over. Intelligence suggests that General McGovern, like the coward he is, did not accompany his fleet. The war doesn’t end until McGovern rots in the ground.

”It was a good day for the Illuminatus military,” Jim says as he sits beside me and hands me a cigar.

”Not so good for them,” I say with a smile as we light up and take a puff.

”You gotta stay on ‘em now,” he advises. ”They’ll lick their wounds and regroup. Come at us again.”

”Is it still us?” I ask, turning my head in his direction.

”Loyal friend and servant to the only King that ever mattered, for all eternity,” he says with an exhale of smoke. ”Or until you die. It’s one of the two,” he says, causing me to chuckle.

”If you hadn’t been here...”

”I know...”

”What do I do when you’re not?”

”If I’m not here, there’s a reason for it,” he suggests with a nod.

”They’re turning back,” I say aloud as I look off toward the sea. Jim darts his head toward the pair of enemy ships. ”They’re goin’ after Godzilla,” I say excitedly as I jump back on my feet.

”Godzilla is a sitting duck,” Jim states the obvious.

”Impenetrable hull and whatnot?”

”You really gonna trust that?” he asks.

The others in my fleet have started their way back toward the carrier as we devise a plan to free Godzilla from her lodging amid the enemy vessel.

”Take a chopper and...”

”And the WarHammer,” I complete his thought.

It doesn’t take long to get ready. Just a few minutes. In the meantime my fleet was ordered back to the kill zone to protect Godzilla. If I have my way though, they won’t fire another shot. Lifting off from the flight deck, me and the flight crew make quick work in preparing. The protective gear is heavy and the recoil when you fire that weapon is fierce. So we make do with what we have by strapping me to the interior top and bottom of the helicopter.

Just as I’m secured in the belly, its go time. Aiming the megaweapon, I pull the trigger and had I not been strapped in, I definitely would have been thrown out the other side. The baby nuclear warhead impacts the broadside of the first pursuing ship and quite literally blows it out of the water.

Handing the first weapon off to one member of the flight crew, a second hands me another weapon, fully locked, loaded and ready to go. Looking through the crosshairs I can see the remaining ship trying to flee and fire toward its stern. A second later, the warhead strikes the ship, blowing it to pieces.

”Holy shit,” I say with a smile. ”Should’ve just used those fuckers and saved ourselves a whole lot of lives.”

”That was kind of epic, mate,” Jim says as he stands beside me while the crew detaches me from the straps. ”I hope you don’t mind me being here, I kinda wanted to see this one firsthand.”

”You can join me any time,” I say with a smile. Looking out the craft at Godzilla, the shockwave from the two blasts sent large waves toward her, finishing off the enemy ship in which she’s lodged. The Bow section falls away and the stern follows soon after, freeing the mammoth warship.

Taking a seat after a job well done, Jim sits beside me.

”What’s it like?” I ask of him and he just stares at me. ”I mean, on the other side?”

”I knew what you meant,” he replies quickly. ”It’s pretty boring.”

”I’m not there, I could only imagine how boring it is,” I say jokingly causing him to chuckle.

”It’s about time for me to go mate.”

”I miss you bro,” I admit to him as a tear rolls down.

”I know,” he says with a smile.

Not realizing what I was doing, I look across the aircraft at the flight crew. The three men stare at me in confusion. Looking to my left, Jim is gone and at once I’m filled with deep sadness and a sense of loss. I don’t think I’ll shake that feeling for a very long time. He played an integral role in shaping who I am today, for better or for worse.

I’ve never felt this lost, this empty, in my entire life and y’all even know who my dad is. Maybe this is me having to pay what I owe for the bad things I’ve done in my life. I’m not a saint and I never have been. I’ve never even claimed to be one. I’ve done some terribly ruthless things in my life and 99% it is war related. It was always about survival and defending the Illuminatus’ right to exist. That’s never stopped anyone from passing judgment on me and the things I do.

Their opinions though, mean nothing to me.

This is my way of life and things are different here. I don’t expect anyone to really understand. So, they can continue to pass their judgments. They can label me a killer or a war criminal, none of it matters. The only thing that matters is victory.

As I stand here today, the night before the final night of Relentless, the Hart Championship is officially retired. When I sought it, when I won it, my goal was to make it mean something again. My goal was always to make the Hart Championship the prize it used to be and not the prop it became since the day Centurion lost it in the summer of 2020.

As I stand here today, I did make the Hart title mean something again. I did make the Hart title a legitimate prize to be sought after, to be won. I took a championship that the last half dozen or so holders made a laughing stock, and made it one of the premier attractions on the final night of the biggest show of the year.

If y’all haven’t figured it out by now, when I say I’m going to do something, you go all in and place all your chips on Thaddeus Duke because I accomplish every goal I set out to achieve.

Now that I’m Hart Champion in perpetuity, this match with Mark Flynn is for the newly minted SuperContinental championship. What a fitting way to christen a new championship than by the measuring stick of the XWF making the previous championship so unattainable by everyone that they retire it, introduce something new, only for me to win that mother fucker too and put my name on it as the first ever champion.

Setting the bar has always been my kinda thing.

So tomorrow night, watch me beat Mark Flynn in the center of the ring to become the new SuperContinental Champion. I’ve half convinced myself that the brain trust was starting to get worried since I’ve won every major title in the XWF, combined with my signing with OCW a few months ago that maybe I was growing bored of my home and was making plans to depart for other adventures, for other challenges.

He adopts a horribly imitated voice of Vinnie Lane. “Theo! We need a new belt for your fucking nephew to win!”

”On it.”

I’m never goin’ anywhere.

There’s no place like home and Mark Flynn, welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show mother fucker. This mother fucking Flynn bitch, let me tell you something about him. The man has spent two fairly entertaining promos NOT talking about yours truly. NOT talking about the task at hand. NOT talking about the challenge that lays in front of him.

That’s a fatal fucking mistake Marko. I’m not Dolly Waters. I’m not the Wizard. I’m not the Lesbian Deus Ex Machina…

The Assassination of the Coward Mark Flynn By the Lionheart Thaddeus Duke

See, I can be clever too.

While I’m sure you can hold your own against me in the ring, you’re basically admitting that you can’t hold your own against me on the stick. I’m not real surprised, to be honest. Everyone thinks they want me but very few can really hang with me in any facet of what the fuck it is we do. They find that out when things start counting for real and I’m not ashamed one bit by the fact that I’m better than you in every conceivable way.

It pleases me greatly that the career coward, more on that in a minute, doesn’t have the balls to really promote this match to his fullest ability. It pleases me greatly that the great Mark Flynn was successfully coaxed from the shadows of retirement by my rugged good looks, my great hair, my magnetic personality, and my five star quality match expertise… only for him to keel over and figuratively die when the pressure is on… the real pressure.

Pressure creates diamonds... or it turns you to dust. No one has applied the kind of pressure on me as I have so the end result of all that pressure I put on myself is that I’ve become a shining, shimmering, sparkling diamond throughout this industry.

I started applying pressure on Mark Flynn from the moment I called him out four months ago to see what would happen. Would he too become a diamond? Or would he crumble beneath my immense star power? And why is that historically significant? We’ve watched Mark Flynn turn into Ned Kaye-lite in real time and I’ve been laughing my ass off over it.

And it’s Ned Kaye-lite because at least Ned picked up the stick and tried to fight back rather than rolling over and playing dead until the last minute. Ned Kaye waited until his final piece of air time to pull out the desperation tactics of fancy adventure time promo land while ol’ Marko dipped into that bag of tricks by promo two.

Mark Flynn isn’t now nor has he ever been a diamond. He’s very good and I’ll never deny it but when you turn up the heat and apply pressure? Mark Flynn crumbles. That’s exactly what he’s done his entire career. Flynn’s been lucky in his old career. He touts names like Madison, Feder and Slater as if any of that is relevant to 2021 but what he doesn’t mention is that when the battles are straight up, he doesn’t have much to stand on and he caves under the weight of real stars. And it’s as soon as that reality hits him in the face, he starts making plans to make his “graceful” exit from the XWF.

Don’t believe me?

Oh I scouted you very well Marko.

Y’all can go back in the archives and look. Anytime he lost something he thought he’d win, the Overrated One, found a way to bow out of competition. I’ve always said that losses teach you something if you’re willing to listen and Mark never listened. All he ever did was come in hot as hell to a roster that didn’t know him, and as soon as they started figuring him out, Mark was taking his leave because using failure to improve just isn’t his bag.

Ol’ Free Win Flynn waited until his final promo in the waning hours before deadline to finally, once and for all open his mouth to engage and promote. The self-professed greatest shit talker in the history of shit talking had to wait until the very end in order to promote this match hoping that I’d taken my eye off the ball, hoping that I’d just assume he wouldn’t wait until the end like the career coward he is…

You needn’t worry Marko. I was never looking for you, just kicking back, relaxing, waiting for you to finally show up.

You’ve made a mistake in overvaluing yourself when it comes to my father. You also overvalue my father but that’s another story. I know it was just filler, much like the rest of your “history lesson,” so that you met the requirement of promotion, but I assure you not only did my father never tuck me into bed, we also never talked about Mark Flynn.

I did that research on my own.

I came to the conclusion that you were pretty good on my own.

Spill your name and watch you hunt? That’s the premise you were shooting for? Mark… my friend… you do realize that I knew that and that’s exactly why I said your name “three times?” You’re really out here giving us a history lesson of all the big names that no one cares about from a half-generation ago?

You know what Tristan Slater, Eli James, my father, and everyone else you name dropped have in common with me?

Nothing.

None of them were generational talents like I am. None of them had the clear cut focus on my opponent like I do. None of them had a knack for taking things and making them bigger like I have. None of them had the ability to talk, chew gum, and out wrestle a dumbass posing as a genius on pay per view.

Yes I live in New York, while I have acting jobs, kids in North Carolina, a girlfriend in Key West, endorsement deals, twitter squabbles with other promotions and competitors, a second wrestling job in OCW all the while fighting a war and you act like I can’t possibly be focused on Mark Flynn? I got news for you buddy, aside from the OCW thing, I had all that shit going on since the day I stepped foot back in this company and my focus has always been exactly where it needs to be, exactly WHEN it needs to be so if you think that my ability to lead a hectic lifestyle somehow disqualifies me from beating you then you clearly haven’t scouted me as well as you think you did and you should’ve paid even closer attention than you did.

I idle at busy.

I idle at superstar.

When the lights are on and the people file in… it’s showtime baby!

It’s pay per view, it’s the biggest fucking show on the calendar and so few have that next gear quite like I do. Those that do, none of their names are Mark Flynn.

There ain’t a better showman in this business, not a better wrestler in this business, not a more focused mother fucker in this business... than me.

I’m afraid your Optimal Path leads to a dead end my friend and the SuperContinental title is coming home with me so your Dragon trophy is just gonna have to wait.

Once again Mark Flynn…

Welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Lionheart & Soul - Part 3: RP #3
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