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Thaddeus Duke · (02-22-2022)

Sitting here in history class, I zone out almost entirely. There was some commotion recently but I sorta ignored it. So much for this anti-bullying thing, huh? I know what our goal is here today. I know what we’re after. Yet at the same time, a big part of me just wants to be at home. Home is where my kids are. Home is where my wife is. Home… is where my heart is. So while I wind down the remainder of my XWF contract, really, the only thing I think about when I’m left to my own devices… is home.

Pulling out my cell, I decide to text Lauren.

[Image: njPBVqU.png]

”Tom Hollandaise!” shouts NorthKoreanWarCriminal, still cleverly disguised as one, John A. History. Even still, I pay him no attention because my name isn’t Tom, but Thaddeus.

”Tha-uhhh, Tom!” Corey smacks me in the arm.

”Oww man, what the eff!?” I retort and he looks and points up at NorthKoreanWarCriminal.

”Tom Hollandaise,” he says as he nears my desk. Tapping his foot with a hand on his hip, he holds his other hand out. ”What was so important that you had to interrupt my very good and very important Imperialist American History lesson?”

”I umm… I was texting my wi---”

SMACK! from behind from Flynn.

”I mean my girlfriend.”

”Nice cover, TOM!” Flynn says sarcastically.

”Hey, thanks Bryan.”

”Pfft, like you have a girlfriend,” this schools resident mean girl Jessica something or other that’s sitting on my right says.

”Jessica Sanders,” NorthKoreanWarCriminal interjects. Sanders, that’s it. ”This situation does not concern you.”

Her and I exchange snooty looks at one another.

”Tom Hollandaise, your communication device, sir,” he says, holding out his hand.

”Excuse me, my what?”

”Your cell phone Tom, give him your cell phone!”

”Are you serious?”

NorthKoreanWarCriminal nods but only once.

”But...”

”You can have it after school,” he says, but I’m reluctant to hand it over.

”Just hand it over, Tom! It’s almost lunch time.”

”North Kor… Mister History, can I speak to you in private?”

”Of course,” he agrees. He and I head out into the hallway.

”Dude what the fuck are you doing!?” I ask him in a hushed yell.

”My job Thaddeus Duke,” he says in defense of himself. ”Am I doing a poor job?” he asks with sadness in his voice.

”No, you’re doing a great job,” I say in an effort to soothe his ego. ”But you know who I am, you can’t take my phone.”

”Thaddeus Duke you can’t make me look weak in front of the other students,” he protests. ”Get your communication device after recess, no one will know.”

”But what if something… wait, there’s recess?”

NorthKoreanWarCriminal nods.

”In high school, there’s recess?”

Again, he nods.

”Perfect,” I say aloud and hand him my phone.

Walking back into class, I’m all smiles.

”Tom Hollandaise has surrendered,” NorthKoreanWarCriminal announces with my phone in the air as he enters the room. ”All is well in Imperialist American History class!”

”What are you smiling for?” Jessica asks.

”Don’t worry about it,” I answer her as I take my seat.

”So this so called girlfriend,” she prefaces. ”She got a name?”

”Lauren,” I answer disinterestedly. She scoffs in response. ”Shut up Jessica. You wouldn’t even know her. She doesn’t even go here!”

”Bet she’s fat and ugly, too,” she whispers quietly as the bell rings.

”She’s like a 20 out of 10 with a huge rack,” I say to the girl, taking a double backhand shot from both Corey and Flynn. ”Oww what the heck!”

Filing out of the room and into the hallway, the ambiguously odd trio make our way to our pretend lockers. Really, we just found a few empty ones earlier this morning and called them ‘ours.’ As the student body all heads in separate directions, some to their next class, some like us… to lunch, I decide to tell Mark and Corey what NorthKoreanWarCriminal told me a few minutes ago.

”Guys listen,” I say, as Flynn and I reach Corey from opposite sides almost simultaneously. A couple of students walk by staring at us, so grabbing Corey by his arm, I start to pull him down the hall and make a right. Somewhat reluctantly, Mark follows us. As we round a corner to an empty hallway we stop.

”Okay so...” I stop in my tracks as just down the hallway and over Mark’s shoulder, I see NorthKoreanWarCriminal dragging an unconscious person into a closet. Spying me looking at him, he gives a friendly wave before resuming his dragging of said person. ”What the heck is he doing?”

”Oh my God...” Corey begins.

”...Is she dead?” I conclude.

Flynn looks over his shoulder.

”Noooo,” he says quickly, before returning to face us. ”Well, probably not.”

”Okay well let’s hope for the best,” I say before shifting gears. ”So I just heard that they have recess here after lunch.”

”Recess?” Corey repeats. ”Isn’t that for like…”

”Little kids?”

”That’s what I thought too, but its 2022… maybe they changed it.”

”This is good. This is real good,” Corey says. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head. ”You know what this means don’t you?”

”Kickball!” ”Bullies!” we say simultaneously.

”Really Tom?”

”So you really think we’re gonna have recess and we’re just gonna do this bully thing the whole time?”

”That’s why we’re here!”

”Eff you I’m playin’ kickball.”

”Bryan?” Corey looks at Flynn.

”I’m just gonna watch these matches,” Flynn says to Corey’s sighing.

”No, you’re playing kickball.” They both look at me. ”I never went to that kind of school! I wanna play kickball dammit!”

”Fine! We’ll play kickball!” Corey relents as Flynn shrugs.

Just then, NorthKoreanWarCriminal pops out of the closet with horn rimmed glasses and a frilly smock.

”It is NorthKoreanLunchTime!” he says excitedly with a pump of his fist.

”Where the heck did you find that guy?” I ask of Flynn. He shrugs.

“North……… Korea...”

The three of us begin our walk to the cafeteria. Inside, we wait in line impatiently. Well, mainly just me. Corey keeps looking over his shoulder and swatting at spit balls. Each time, his eyes dart around the large room crawling with teenage mutants. Okay, not really mutants, but they’re teenagers so it’s close enough, really. Flynn just keeps his head down watching Alias matches.

And I just realized who’s in front of us. That stupid Jessica girl.

”It’s that mean girl from history class,” I whisper to Corey.

”What school did you come from?” mean girl Jessica turns around to ask me as slowly but surely, the line proceeds further.

”One in New York, you never heard of it,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

”Is that where your girlfriend is?” she asks.

”Uhhh yeah,” I say. I’m trying to be nice, but also act like I’m not interested. Mostly, because I’m not. I’m 23 and she’s in high school.

”You two won’t last,” she says as now there are just a few people in line in front of us.

”We last just fine, thank you,” I say, almost kicking myself.

She grabs my left hand and clicks a pen in her right hand. ”Well Tom, if that is your real name, when it doesn’t...” she starts writing on the palm of my hand. ”Call me.”

Once she turns around, I turn to Corey with my palm up.

”I was standing here the whole time,” he says quickly. ”I saw it, I heard it!”

”All I’m sayin’ is that there’s...”

”Dammit Thad,” he whispers with some anger behind it. ”Keep it in your pants, she’s in high school!”

”Oh relax, I was never gonna use it!” I protest. ”All I’m sayin’ is some of us got it,” I say, playfully slapping him in his face with my inked up palm. ”And some of us are you.”

"Aw, how sweet. I haven't seen a romance this pure since Drake and Millie Bobby Brown." Flynn elbows Corey, "That's a grooming joke."

”Yeah I got it,” Corey says to Flynn before holding his phone up in my face. On it’s screen is a picture of the Supercontinental title. ”Some of us got it,” he playfully slaps my face as a smile grows on my own. ”Some of us don’t.”

”Helloooo Jessicaaaa!” NorthKoreanWarCriminal, now disguised as the lunch lady, greets her while plopping down a glob of mashed potatoes onto her tray.

”You’re not Betty,” Jessica says to him while spying his name tag that reads: ‘Betty White’

Immediately, I dart my gaze toward Corey.

”I DIDN’T KILL BETTY WHITE!”

Record scratch.

All stop.

”Way to stay cool Ben,” Flynn says, leaning into Corey’s ear.

”I just put her on a pool to kick off in ‘21.”

SPLAT!

”AW SON OF A B...”

Flynn wraps his palm over Corey’s mouth for a moment before removing it.

”WHO THREW AN APPLE SAUCE CUP AT ME!?” he asks angrily, looking around the cafeteria. Boisterous laughter kicks in. Moments later, as he’s wiping the apple sauce off of his shirt, several wads of balled up paper come flying in and hitting him all over.

”REAALLY?”

Returning my attention to Jessica and NorthKoreanWarCriminal...

”You’re not Betty,” he says with a scowl as he cheats her on the gravy.

”I want more gravy.”

”Rude American girl does not get more gravy,” he says, glowering his eyes at her.

”Give me more gravy,” she insists, glowering her own eyes back at him. ”Weren’t you just my history teacher?”

”I was not!” NorthKoreanWarCriminal insists. ”I hear you had a very great Imperialist American History teacher,” he says as he scoops more gravy, ready to pour it on her mashed potatoes.

”You’re not Betty White,” she further insists. NorthKoreanWarCriminal slams his hands down on Jessica’s tray.

”NO LUNCH FOR RUDE AMERICAN GIRL!”

The two struggle with the tray for several standoffish awkward seconds before Jessica finally lets go causing “Betty White” to splatter the tray and its contents against his chest.

”I’m getting the principal,” she says as she starts to walk away.

”I mean, his name tag even says Betty White.”

”Her… name tag,” Flynn corrects.

”Tom Hollandaise, you are in Liberal United States! Do not assume my gender! I am very clearly handsome American woman!”

”Sorry NorthKor…” hard elbow in the side from Corey. [thad]”...rea would love to have someone like you!”

Just as Jessica is about to round the corner, NorthKoreanLunchLady takes a glob of potatoes stuck to his frilly smock and chucks it at Jessica.

”You are a good American boy Tom Hollandaise,” he says with a smile as he piles on the mashed potatoes and gravy.

The rest of lunch period was fairly uneventful. Students came and went and really didn’t bother with us. Not even Corey, for a change. After lunch was when the real fun would begin. Sitting around being inactive is not my cup of tea. I need activity. I need to move. I need to be doing something almost every waking second otherwise I feel like I’m just wasting time and opportunity.

Now it’s time for recess.

In high school.

It’s time for kickball.

Outside, it’s a mad rush to get to the ball field before everyone else. It takes a couple of minutes to get organized and our teams drafted. I was a captain, so was Corey. Because sometimes art imitates life imitates art and if I go any further that’ll be even more confusing.

Of course, Corey would draft Flynn.

Dick.

No sooner does the game begin, and so does the bullying. Just as Flynn pitches the kick ball, I kick it… it’s flying toward Corey and another ball hits him in the back of the head, drawing his attention. Just as he turns his head, the kick ball hits him in the side of his face.

Shrugging off taking two balls to the face, Corey runs about ten feet as I take off for first base.

”Tom! Bryan!” Corey yells out.

Flynn looks like he’s about to run over, but elects to take a nice leisurely stroll from the pitchers mound toward the first base line.

”What is it, Fido?” Flynn asks of Corey.

”Fido? Really?”

Flynn shrugs.

”There’s kids being bullied over there,” he points off into the distance where it looks like a group of six or eight students are shoving around one small child.

”I mean, it could be nothing,” I chime in, not really wanting to abandon the kickball game. ”Maybe its a game,” I suggest.

A light bulb goes off over Corey’s head.

”Look Tom, the settlers at Starlight Drive In are under attack and need your help,” he says, mimicking Fallout.

”Maan,” I say with a sigh. ”It’s just like those stupid settlers. You’re off exploring the wilderness, collecting bottle caps and tryna kill Deathclaws and these mother effers are forever gettin’ attacked and need your help.”

”I really thought that’d pique your interest,” he says disappointedly.

”Of course it did,” I say with a sigh. ”You know me so well.”

”What’s the plan?”

Looking around, I see dozens of eyes staring at us.

”Not here,” I say with a hint of paranoia in my demeanor. ”Get to the dugout, we’ll talk there,” I whisper as the three of us head in that general direction. Inside the dugout, we sit the bench and each prop our feet up on a crate.

”The way I see it, there’s three of us...” he pokes his head around to do a guesstimate at the numbers.

”And a lot more of them,” Flynn chimes in.

”I was gonna say that.”

”But you didn’t.”

”No, but I was gonna. I was just being dramatic and you swooped in and stole my thunder.”

”Hey,” I try to chime in but they continue their bickering.

”Kind of like Relentless?”

”You know what? You didn’t even beat him!”

”GUYS!”

Finally, I grab their attention.

”This crate says ‘NERF’ on it,” I inform them. Flynn looks at me like I just insulted his mother. Corey’s eyes glow.

Jumping to his feet, he shoves mine and Flynn’s feet off the crate and opens it up.

”It’s a whole cache of weapons!”

Immediately interested, Flynn leans forward, peering inside the crate.

”Toy weapons,” Flynn says while leaning back again.

”Well its all we got,” I say as Corey starts yanking on his shirt sleeve. ”Besides, you look like a school shooter so now’s your chance to be one and no one really gets hurt.”

”Dammit!” Corey cries out as he’s still yanking on his shirt sleeve.

”What the hell are you doing?”

”Tryna rip my sleeve off. I need a Rambo bandanna.”

”Lemme see,” I say and Corey takes a step toward me. Both of us start tugging on his shirt sleeve. ”What the fuck is this made of!?”

Both of us tugging and the sleeve just won’t tear.

”Is this… never mind,” and now Flynn joins us, trying to tear off his sleeve.

Three grown men. Five arms. None of them have the power to tear the shirt sleeve.

”Wait I got it!”

Flynn and Corey back off tugging as I put both of my feet in the air.

”Lay your face against my shoes,” I insist and hesitantly, he does so.

Tugging and tugging at the sleeve with Corey’s face pressed against my feet, the sleeve will just not let go.

”Fad!” he calls out with his scrunched face. ”Fad you’re hurtim my fash.”

Yet still, the sleeve will not give way.

”Move over,” Flynn says as he sits beside me and places his feet against Corey’s face too. Together, our four arms and our four feet do the job. Finally, the sleeve tears from the rest of the shirt.

”Got it!”

”Thanks,” Corey says while rubbing his face. ”Face hurts now.”

”Better?” I ask as he starts tying the shirt sleeve around his forehead.

”A little,” he answers. ”’Cept it’s a little chilly and now my arm is cold.”

Digging into the crate, I start pulling plastic weapons and Styrofoam ammunition from inside. After giving each one a pistol and a rifle, I put a pistol in my waistband, sling a rifle over my shoulder and keep a NERF sniper rifle in my hands.

”Okay so listen,” I begin as I kneel down in the dirt surface of the dugout floor. ”We’re here,” I mark an X in the dirt. ”There’s trees here… here……. And here.” X, X, and X.

”The enemies...”

”Bullies,” Corey corrects.

”Listen this is my promo, in this one they’re enemies,” I insist before returning to my gameplan. ”The enemies are here, but...”

”We just bullrush the eff out of ‘em, right? Just guns blazing...”

”Well, popping,” Flynn corrects him.

”What? No! Are you tryna get us all killed?”

”They’re NERF guns!” Corey protests incredulously.

”Here, take some of these too,” I say while reaching back into the crate and pulling out several water balloon grenades. ”What I want you to do, is come in from here…. And here….” X and X.

”Put the squeeze on ‘em from both sides! I like it!”

”Well where are you gonna be?”

”Up in a tree,” I say, thrusting my NERF sniper rifle forward. ”Alright men! Let’s ROLL OUT!”

The three of us burst out of the dug out and across the ball field. Hanging back, I watch as Flynn and Corey run off in separate directions before heading to a tree nearby. After a short climb, I lay length-wise across a thick limb and calibrate my aim toward the group of bullies.

Slow…

Steady…

Breaths…

I was born for stuff like this.

I was put on this planet to bring death to my enemies.

Fire will rain.

Blood will flow.

Except they’re NERF guns and water balloons so really, none of that will happen.

In the distance, I see Flynn and Corey rushing in from opposite sides and both start screaming like banshees.

Siiiigh.

”You never alert the enemy,” I say quietly.

Below, the bully ‘leader’ has a hold on the smaller child with what looks like a knife to his throat. His subordinates form a bit of a shield flanking him.

”Not another step!” the bully leader instructs. ”Or I’ll cut his effing throat!”

”Woah woah, easy fella,” Corey says.

”Drop your weapons! Both of you!”

”Don’t do anything you’re gonna regret!” Flynn warns the leader.

”There’s seven of us, and only two of you,” he scoffs. ”We’ll take our chances.”

”Alright, we’ll put them down,” Corey says as he starts to bend slowly. ”Just don’t hurt him, we can talk this out.”

”Talk is for pussies Corey,” I say to myself just before pulling the trigger, sending the NERF bullet flying through the air and striking the lead bully in the temple.

The leader lets out a grunt, and drops the knife. He drops to his knees, before his subordinates turn to see him.

”What...”

”...the...”

”...fuck?”

The three of us say almost simultaneously as the bully leader falls face first and motionless on the ground.

”SNIPERRRRRR!” shouts one of the bullies as he and the rest run off in retreat.

Climbing down as Corey and Mark stand there almost entirely stupefied, I hurry to reach them. Corey leans down, checking the bully leaders pulse.

”I… guys… um...”

”Is he…?”

”No… he can’t be. It’s just a NERF dart!”

Leaning down, I slap Corey’s hand away and start to feel for a pulse when suddenly, a water grenade lands between us.

”HIT THE DECK!” I shout while tackling Corey and Mark to the ground. Looking back at the water grenade, it bursts unceremoniously into a puddle of water.

In the distance, a large group of bullies is screaming toward us. Quickly, we gather ourselves to our feet.

”RETREAT!” I shout and the three of us run for cover as the bullies are trying and failing to pelt us with water grenades. We leave their sight as we round a corner of a storage building before finding cover under a parked school bus.

”NK DO YOU READ!?” I yell into my two-way communicator wrist watch.

”YES THADDEUS DUKE! I READ YOU!”

”NK, we are pinned down! Beneath a school bus! Can you help us out!?”

”...”

”Shit! I think we lost him!” I say to the guys.

”This plan was a bad plan,” Flynn chimes in.

”Well, no one told you to start screaming before you got there. You wasted the element of surprise!”

”NK, It’s Corey! Do you copy!?”

”I only started screaming because he was!” Flynn points the blame at Corey.

”YES CAPTAIN COREY SMITH! THIRTY SECONDS OUT!” NK informs us. Suddenly, we hear screams of terror off in the distance and what sounds like very heavy machinery. On the ground near the bus, water grenades are bursting but we have yet to be hit.

Then it happens…

”What...”

”...the...”

”...fuck!?”

Together, the three of us climb out from beneath the bus as a tank rolls toward us. The storage building we escaped around reduced to smoldering rubble.

”Where the hell did he get a… wait...”

”Hey isn’t that...”

”Your Illuminatus State insignia?”

”Son of a...”

Almost simultaneously, the three of us rush toward the tank as it comes to a stop. The hatch pops open a few seconds later and NorthKoreanWarCriminal pops his head out.

”Hey… that’s D’Ville’s Playground!”

”Tom Hollandaise,” he says with a knowing grin, tossing my phone to me. ”You almost forgot your phone.”

”Aw man, my battery is almost dead.”

”THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT!?”

”Whaaat!?”

”Man, there’s blood on your tank.”

”It’s a tank, there’s always blood on it.”

”Is it always dripping?”

NK looks sheepishly.

”Aww man, what’d you do!? And how’d you get one of my tanks!?”

NK scratches his head.

”It doesn’t matter Tom Hollandaise. Just don’t look at text.”

With a roll of my eyes, I open my text messages. The last message was from Dick. Richard, my chief of staff.

”God dammit.”

A/V Class w/ Mr. John Audiovisual

”...and in other news, U.S. President Joe Biden and Russian President Vladimir Putin have… um… agreed… to a um………….”

”SUMMIT! A SUMMIT! GET OUT FROM IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA! YOU ARE AN AMERICANT NOT AN AMERICAN!

“YOU ARE A DISGRACE!”

”You’re a jerk!” says Katie as she stomps her feet back to her seat while tears form in her eyes.

”No! I am great American Audio Video teacher! You… Katie… YOU ARE AMERICAN SCUM!”

NorthKoreanAudioVisualTeacher turns his head toward me and smiles.

”Tom Hollandaise, you’re up next! Show this… this…” he wags his finger toward Katie, but won’t look at her. ”This not at all talented girl how to project greatness in front of a camera.”

”I’m telling my dad...”

NK spits on the floor at Katie’s feet.

”I spit at you and your father for seeding such… such… AMERICAN TRASH!”

What is an exile?

An exile is someone who was barred from their native land.

An exile is… thrown away.

An exile… is someone… that no one wants.

This group of exiles has found solace in each others midst. They’ve found a common bond that holds them together, to keep themselves relevant… when no one really… truly… cares about any single one of them. Peter Vaughn is the Universal Champion but for how much longer really?

Everyone stops.

Everyone turns their head, when the man comes around.

Is anyone stopping and turning their heads to look at Peter Vaughn?

Naaahhh man, that ain’t it. Peter has been on an impressive roll of late and I’d never take that away from him but the fact of the matter is real simple: the wheels are already a little loose. See I know what its like to ride high, to fly above all the rest, to be the man. I know what it’s like to stand perilously on the wheel as they spin faster and faster and start to wobble. They wobble and get ever looser and soon… Soon… the wheels fall off and you come crashing back down to Earth.

And nothing ever tastes so sweet again.

The difference though, between he and I is that… when my wheels fall off and I stumble, when Corey stumbles, when Mark stumbles… We still piss greatness. So when Peter falls back down to Earth, it’s back to mopping floors, it’s back to square one.

Peter carries the Universal championship among several other lesser world titles but the fact remains… he… is not… the man. There’s this old adage in the wrestling business that to be the man, you gotta beat the man.

I love Jim Caedus like a brother but he was not the man. He was briefcase lucky and nothing more.

The man is Alias.

And the man is knockin’ on the door ready to take back what belongs to him.

Peter Vaughn’s downward spiral back to the nothing that he was always destined to be started at Blood Money 2. The current reigning, defending* Universal Champion… is vulnerable. Savvy world class veterans like Mark Flynn, like Corey Smith, like Thaddeus Duke… we eat the vulnerable for breakfast. Because we’re just to freakin’ good at what we do.

Let’s face it, some of us are long term bona fide stars… and some of us are what makes up the Exiles. The afterthoughts and never-gonna-be’s of the professional wrestling world.

Betsy Granger. Hello Betsy. Personally, you know I love you girl, but this is business. And I hope you can find it in your heart to know this is business and not at all personal, but what the hell are you doing? For weeks and weeks, day after day I see you on the social media making your passive aggressive tweets because you lost the great one, you lost the god king lord almighty himself, you lost the GOAT, to the GOAT chaser.

You lost James Raven to Atara Themis.

That’s not even the crime.

Love is tricky, its complicated.

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose but the fact is… you’re still hung up on the fact that one of your best friends snaked your man right out from under you. You know what they say, the best way to get over a man is to get on top of another one.

For the record, I’m not offering. I’m a happily married man. Though I wouldn’t blame you for trying, because I’m rather talented in that ring too.

What is it about you that makes you tick? You just can’t survive in this business on your own merits and I’m not sure why not. You’re very talented. You’re very unique. Yet you just don’t want to be on your own. You want others around you at all times and I don’t know why that is.

See, I hitch my wagon to others from time to time but I’ve been very successful on my own. Unless you count a shame of a Shooting Star title, what have you really done over the last two years?

Let’s see, you’ve hitched your wagon to Legacy.

Because James Raven.

You’ve hitched your wagon to Apex… who is… sorta D.O.A. At least anywhere that really matters.

Then there was this weird merger between Apex and Legacy and that lasted for about a cup of coffee.

Are you in the New Status Quo too? You know, because James Raven?

Or are you out now… because… well… James Raven?

Is there anything you can do on your own? Failure after failure after failure. It’s like, your whole game is to rub shoulders with the best of the best… and also the Exiles… to give you that modicum of star power you’ve always sought and could never quite reach.

What’s left for you without Raven?

What’s left is the feeling in the pit of your stomach that knows I’m right. What’s left for you is middling around in the undercards for the rest of your career because you were never really as good as you thought you were. You were always just… next to the real stars, weren’t you?

You’re with the Exiles now. It looks great on paper with all of Peter’s shiny trinkets, but only one of those belts really mean anything and his days with that are counting toward zero. When April rolls around and he’s without the only real world title in the business… Then what?

The Exiles slowly fall apart.

You just can’t buy a win these days, can you Bets?

Xavier Lux.

Venom.

Let me tell you this dude has been jealous of me since the moment he laid eyes on me and yes. I am absolutely talking about my short stint in OCW where I made that place the place everyone wanted to be and Xavier Lux hated every mother fuuuu-freakin minute of it.

Close the doors!

Shut the gates!

Each and every week there were new signings. New obstacles. New potential contenders to his then-OCW Championship and with each passing week it was the same Xavier Lux trying to convince the powers that be to stop signing talent. It was the same Xavier Lux that would tweet and beg for them to stop signing people because… why?

Why would a world champion worth their salt beg the company he’s champion of to stop signing fresh talent?

That answer is easy.

I gave it to him way back then.

He was a big fish in a teeny tiny little pond and they were letting in the sharks. Sharks like me that would chew him up, spit him out, chew him up again, swallow him, regurgitate him, then eat him a third time just to make sure there was nothing left.

Do you need evidence?

Look at his tenure since he’s signed on the dotted line in the shark infested waters of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. Sure he picked up a couple of wins over a couple nobodies but as soon as he steps to the plate against a real talent… he folds like a cheap fuuu-freaakin suit.

Why?

Because he doesn’t have what it takes to compete at such a high level. He doesn’t have what it takes to be anything more than a… enhancer… to the stars. He does not have what it takes to step to the mic and step into the ring with the best of the best and what he’s faced with is a literal murderers row of talent in Genesis.

He doesn’t have the cerebral cortex to compete in outwitting either.

Know how I know that?

OCW.

A huge freakin deal was made over my in-ring debut over there and it should have been. Because I am a huge freakin’ deal. The event was House of Cards and the idea was to try and find allies to support you during the event. Xavier Lux was so jealous of me and the hype surrounding me. He was so perturbed that everything about me was overshadowing his whiny bitch ass so he staged a late arrival.

I was opening match against Ed Houston.

Xavier was in league with Peter Vaughn and Vaughn tried to reach out to me but there was a problem. I heard him out. I was willing to play ball but on the next Piledriver, Vaughn was shown conversing in private with Lux and it just didn’t sit right with me.

If you’re making a deal with me, then you’re turning around to make a deal with someone else all the while cutting me out of that conversation… that dog just don’t hunt… as Chris Page agent extraordinaire would say. So we get to House of Cards and my debut… there’s no Lux. The entire roster is around the ring for this cage match between Houston and myself and… in a preemptive strike, I deliver the Heat Seeker to a steel bar on the cage forcing it into Peter’s chin and knocking him out…

Minutes later… Lux makes his grand entrance to the ring… while his only ally is already out cold.

Jealousy caused him to try and upstage me.

Fear and a desire to protect his spot caused him to whine and cry about OCW signing name after name.

Stupidity knocked out his only friend in the world.

Xavier Lux… he’s not Thaddeus Duke.

But it’s not enough. He wouldn’t have beat me then, and he can’t beat me now. It just so happens, that the two guys I’m teamin’ with? Well… they’re pretty good too.

We’re…

Better…

Than…

You.

”YOU SEE!?” NKWC shouts at Katie. ”He’s way better than you!” he says with a wink at the camera.

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