Rural Kentucky

Dressed in green and brown forest camouflage with my face painted to match, I put out the morning’s fire.  This quest I’ve been on isn’t one I was looking for.  It’s not one I welcomed.  I was resistant.  Doing what I’m about to do has my stomach in knots.  What if he’s wrong?  What if I’m wrong?  As soon as I do it, there’s no turning back.  There’s no room for doubt, there’s no room for being incorrect.

Still… what he said made sense.  At least in part.  Dolly Waters hasn’t been acting like herself in months and I have a bite scar on my inner thigh that proves that.  In all the years I’ve known her, Dolly Waters has been a lot of things.  What she’s never been is a slutty little trollop that sets her sights on married men.

Packing up my campsite, I packed it away in the bed of my dads old Chevy truck.  After swiping and wiping away any trace that I was ever even here, I climbed into the cab of the pickup, and continued on through the woods in Kentucky.  It has been a much longer trip than normal.  A typical road trip from New York to Kentucky might take half a day using roads and interstates.  When you’re using a map and traveling through the woods and hills, it takes considerably longer.

---

Why Centurion?

Why Relentless?

Why now?

Fact is the man ducked me for years.  Anytime I’d approach him about doin’ some work, the answer was always the same and he’d kick the can down the road.

“Yeah… we’ll do something sometime.”

Then the days, weeks, months, even years rolled quickly by and this match has never happened.  There’s several things that pass through my mind when I stop and think about why it hasn’t happened.  One, maybe he doesn’t respect me.  Maybe his previous agreements to “do something” were nothing more than a personal appeasement intended to get me off his back.

See, there has always been this hidden resentment between generations of XWF stars.  Centurion has been around a long time and so have I, but he’s been around far longer and he remembers the glory days of the Jon Brown era where everyone ever was better than my generation, if you asked them.  Maybe all this time, his “sure we’ll do something’s” were really, “sure kid, whatever you say.”

Or maybe it’s not simply disrespect and Centurion wanted no part of me because… he knows that I’m better than him.  I mean, I am, but that’s not some big secret.  Me being better than him doesn’t mean that he’s not good, that he’s not good enough, because God knows I’m better than most.

Listen, I know I’ve said some things over the years that would have everyone believing that it’s me that doesn’t respect him.  The fact of the matter is really quite simple.  I have nothing but the utmost respect for Andy Cortinovis.  If I didn’t respect him, if I didn’t admire his abilities, if I didn’t think he was capable of beating me, then I wouldn’t have wanted to face Centurion at all.

Why Relentless?  Quit simply, why not?  It’s the 25th anniversary of the company he and I both helped build.  What better way to honor the legacy of this great promotion than by putting two of the biggest names it has ever seen head to head for the first, and likely last time ever?

We’re done kicking the can down the road, Andy.  This is happening whether you’re ready or not.

---

Two Days Earlier - Paradise Ridge

It wasn’t even four o’clock in the morning and this incessant ringing kept annoying the hell out of me.  Only once I forced myself to open my eyes, did I realize that incessant ringing was my cell phone.  Turning to my left, Lucy was sound asleep.  After kissing her on the cheek, I turned to my phone.

Eleven missed calls.

Unlocking the screen, I noticed all of them were from my old manager Paulie.  Laying there, I’d considered whether or not I’d return his calls at all.  Paulie and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.  That man orchestrated the biggest personal betrayal of my professional career.

Just as I cleared the notifications, Paulie’s twelfth call started coming through.  Emitting a deep sigh, I hesitantly answered the phone.

”Do you have any idea what time it is?” I asked in a hushed anger.  ”Man I got a life, I have three kids that’ll be up in two hours and you’re calling me in the…”

”Thaddeus we need to talk,” Paulie interrupted.  ”Can you make it to my place?”

”Dude listen,” I began.  ”I know I’m about to do this whole wrestling thing, but I promise I don’t want you anywhere near my career again.”

”Dammit Thaddeus,” he shouted angrily in my ear.  ”This isn’t a joke and it has nothing to do with wrestling.”

For a moment I laid quietly in bed.  There weren’t many things Paul did outside of wrestling so what could he possibly have going on that he needs my assistance?  What could he possibly say that’d even grab my attention?

”This is about Dolly,” he dropped the other shoe.

Yep.

That’d do it.

”What about Dolly?” I inquired.

”It’s best if we didn’t speak over the phone,” Paulie gave his non-answer.  ”Can you get out to my house?  Or do I have to come to you and drag you out of bed?”

”Can this not wait a few hours until I get Frankie off to school?”

”No,” he answered quickly.

I sighed.

”Fine, let me get a shower,” I finally relented.

”There’s not time for that,” Paulie insisted.  ”Just get here.”

Maybe it’s because I’m tired or that I just woke up, but I swear I could almost detect a hint of panic in his voice.  That by itself wouldn’t worry me much.  Paulie has always been the sort to overreact and panic when he should remain calm.  But panic in relation to Dolly Waters?  Yeah, you have my attention.  Rolling out of bed, I pulled yesterday’s Wrangler’s over my ass and threw on a hoodie.  Socks, shoes, a hat and kissing Lucy one more time, I was out the door, headed for Scarsdale.

---

Aside from the obvious anniversary of the XWF thing, what could I possibly want with Centurion who has shown over the last few months that his tank is empty?  Why would I want to face a man that’s a shell of his once great self?

I’ve heard the rumors.

While nothing has been confirmed publicly by Andy himself, I have heard that Relentless is it.  I’ve heard rumblings that once the final bell rings and Relentless is in the books, that so too is the career of the once great Centurion.  Part of me hopes that’s not true and part of me thinks that, yeah, maybe it is time.  As good as he’s been in the ring, it’s plainly obvious to everyone that the man has lost a step.

There’s no shame in that.

When you’ve done this as long as he has, when you’ve done it at a high level the way he has, sometimes, you keep goin’ so hard because you love it so much that… you’re running on empty and you passed the last gas station fifty miles back and there ain’t another one for a hundred miles more.  Then before you know it… the car sputters, knocks and stalls and you’re alone in the middle of night along a desolate highway in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the memories of days of old to keep you warm.

I don’t know if those rumors are true.  If they are, then Andy…

I am honored to share that ring with you for your send off.

I’ve made a million jokes at his expense over the years, and I’m not sorry that I made them.  What I am sorry about, is that those jokes didn’t get under his skin enough to make this match happen a lot sooner.  Centurion is pretty thin skinned, but he never took the bait.

That’s what experience and intelligence buys you.

Robert Main, the Omega to my Alpha, never did have either of those and a big part of me wishes Centurion was as susceptible to swallowing the bait… hook, line and sinker… the way Robert Main was.  I’d have much preferred to contest this match with Centurion at the height of his strength than at the bottom of the proverbial barrel.  That couldn’t happen because everytime I tried to make it happen, another excuse as to why he couldn’t, always fell from his lying lips.

Therein lies the hook, too though.  If this really is indeed Centurion’s last hurrah, then I know that man will pull every ounce of juice he has left from every place he didn’t know he had it stored.  He’ll want to go out in a blaze of glory than to go out flat on his back and staring at the lights.  I can’t help him with the former, but I’ll most assuredly aid him in the latter.

---

Later That Morning - Scarsdale, New York

Pulling up to Paulie’s house, he was standing on the front stoop.  Killing the engine, I was intrigued enough, and perhaps slightly worried, that I hurried to meet him.  After leading me into his home, he sat me down in front of a fireplace in his family room.

”So what’s so important?” I asked.

Paulie didn’t answer.  Instead, he paced in front of the fire with his rotund frame casting a humorous Michelin Man shadow across the room.  Stopping myself from laughing, I stood and cut off Paulie’s path.  After I placed my hands on his shoulders, he looked up at me with his eyes without raising his head.

”Paulie?  What’s goin’ on?”

”Misty,” he answered.

”You mean Dolly,” I corrected.

Paulie shook his head  ”I mean Misty,” he corrected my correction.  ”I know some people think this is some kind of act but Thaddeus please listen to me.  That woman parading around Warfare and Anarchy, she might look like Dolly Waters, but she isn’t.”

Emitting a sigh, I let my hands drop from his shoulders.

”So you called me out here this early in the morning to try and get me to believe what Dolly’s been tryna get me to believe?”

”No,” he insisted.  ”If you think about it, you’ll know I’m right.”

”Think about what, Paulie?” I looked at the time on my phone and started for the door.  ”Man, I got three kids about to be up in an hour.  I don’t have time to…”

”Think back to before Lauren left you,” he said as I stopped myself.  ”Your office backstage at Warfare.  Would the Dolly Waters you know have come onto you the way she did?”

”Dolly and I have always had a thing for each other, that’s not some big secret,” I insisted.

”No, but would the Dolly you know have done that while you were married?”

To be honest, I never really thought about that.

”You know she has a moral code.  You know the answer to that question,” he insisted.  ”That woman that looked like Dolly, smelled like Dolly, felt like Dolly… that woman that pulled you into her hotel room and did God knows what… was not Dolly Waters.”

Coming closer to him, I plopped myself down on his sofa.

”Her grandmother’s name was Misty,” I said aloud but mostly to myself.  Paul looked down at me with a smirk.  ”Oh GODDD!”

”Is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

”Not particularly,” I sniped as I continued to process the information.

”Dolly is safe,” Paulie said.  ”But not for much longer.”

”What do you mean?  What the fuck is going on?  How can Misty be here?  She’s been dead for years!”

”Enough about that, are you even listening to me?” he shouted as he got in my face.  ”I’m telling you that Dolly Waters' life is in danger and you’re sitting here worrying about the logistics of all things?”

”Well forgive my brain for tryna process all this shit when I haven’t even had any coffee yet!” I argued.

”You need to kill Misty Waters to save Dolly, Thaddeus!  Why is this so hard for you to see!?” he hollered angrily.

”Because I don’t even know if I believe you!” I shouted back.  ”You remember, you’re the one that made it possible for Corey Smith to take my…”

”That was years ago!”

”Loyalty means something to me, Paul,” I said quietly.  ”I brought you back after you were relegated basically into the nether realm for years.  I befriended you.  I trusted you.  I put my god damn professional career in your sausage fingered swollen hands… and you betrayed me.

“People don’t usually find a way back.”

”I’m not asking you to trust me, Thaddeus,” he pleaded as he sat on the sofa beside me.  ”I’m asking you to grab your biggest rifle, for Dolly.  Your best scope, for Dolly.  I’m asking you to trust your gut… for Dolly.  I’m asking yooouuu, to trust your own ears…”

He hands me an earpiece.

”For Dolly.”

Staring at the earpiece, I rub it in my hand while I thought about everything Paul has told me.

”You know as well as I do that Dolly Waters is a flaming, bleeding heart liberal, Thaddeus,” he continued to make his case.  ”When you get there, listen to her words.  If you think I’m wrong, if you think I’m lying, if you think for even a second that anything she says sounds like something Dolly Waters would say, then don’t take the shot.

“Pack up.

“Leave.

“Pretend you were never there.”

”Paulie, I…” but no words followed.

”Just listen to her, Thaddeus,” he continued.  ”When you do, you’ll know I’m right and that woman is not Dolly Waters.  And you’ll take that shot.

“For Dolly.”

---

If Centurion is ready to pack it in, if this is his last go and I’m the one that’s gonna retire him, then what is it Centurion has that I would possibly want?  The man has an extensive history and he found himself at the end of it all as one of the most decorated stars in the history of the XWF with a no doubt storied career.  Now, having gold around my waist hasn’t really been a motivating factor in me doing what I’ve done better than most for the past seven years.  I’ve had my time beneath the bright spotlights and it’s not what drags me back, it’s not what pushes me harder, it’s not… what made me famous.

What made me famous is a true dedication to what I do better than anyone between those ropes.  What made me famous is my relentless desire to be the absolute best, to be the match that, regardless of where it’s positioned, is the one people talk about.  What made me famous isn’t the name I wear but the body of work I’ve chosen to put forth in my also storied career.

So then, if not championships.

If not gilded glory.

If not bright lights that fuels my fire to face Centurion, then what is it?  He has no gold, he can hardly even move these days and his tired old knees can’t support both his own weight and the weight of another.  So one more time, what is it about Centurion that has made me want this match for years?

What does Andy Cortinovis possess that I covet?

First and foremost, a passing of the torch.  For nearly two decades, Centurion has been the standard bearer of the XWF.  The wise old sage, the elder statesman of this company.  Whether or not the rumors of his retirement are true is irrelevant.  For as much as Centurion has carried the flag of the XWF over his two decades, I’ve done it for seven.  I’m presently embarking on year number eight and while I have no plans, no desires to hunt down XWF gold, I do plan on being the standard bearer, the proud flag waver of the XWF for many years to come.  It’s only fitting that the esteemed gentleman that I’ll beat on Sunday in London, passes that torch finally and forever, to your Lionheart.

The next thing he possesses is the one thing I want most of all.  I’ll acknowledge that I have many years to go and that I have an uphill climb to get there, but my opponent holds the all-time win record at more than 200.  I have less than half that but I’m steadily climbing.  If the only way for me to climb, to catch, to surpass, is to make sure he doesn’t come back… then I’m prepared to do that.

---

Present Day - Rural Kentucky

Navigating the beat up old Chevy through the woods, I came to a clearing just off a river bank.  Slowing the truck to a stop, I grabbed the map that Paul gave me and exited the truck.  Leaning against the grill, I studied the map long and hard.  Night was beginning to fall and I needed to find my way faster.  A red X marked the location of the stage in which Misty… or Dolly… was set to address her followers.  A black X marked the location of a treestand some 1,000 yards away.  The rally would be in a clearing with an unobstructed view from the sniper’s nest.

If I was correct in my assessment, the treestand was located across the river from me, about a mile west.  The current here was too strong and the water far too deep to ford across.  Big Bertha, my dads old beat up truck, was up to the task of fording across, but not here.

Back in the cab, I put her in gear and the old truck lurched forward as I traveled slowly along the riverbank.  About a half mile away, I came to a spot that was passable.  Engaging the four wheel drive shifter, I turned left and dunked the truck into the river.  Her big block engine roared as we fought the current and slowly made our way across.  Near the other side, I had to gun it hard.  We had drifted downstream just a bit and the embankment was steeper here.  Mashing the accelerator, the front tires bit into the dirt and the old girl climbed up the embankment with little resistance.

Not five minutes later, the treestand was in view.  Positioning the old workhorse of a pickup for a better, cleaner escape, I killed the engine, retrieved my case from the bed and climbed high up into the treestand.  Taking my time, I removed the long barreled rifle from its case and attached the scope.  Peering through the scope, I could see the stage just as Paulie promised, entirely unobstructed.  Misty’s supporters gathered quickly.  Every once in a while, I’d see Paul himself up on the stage.  Not once did he look in my direction.  At one point, I saw him place something on the underside of the podium.

”The device,” I said quietly to myself.  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled the earpiece, switched it on, and placed it firmly into my ear.  I could hear everything.  Mumbles and murmurs from the awaiting crowd of supporters.  Paul shouting last minute instructions.  Other aids going about their jobs and making sure everything was exactly, perfectly right.

Then I listened as Misty Waters was introduced.

---

Make no mistake that my admitted respect for Centurion will do nothing for him.  I respect most everything about that man and what he’s done over the course of his career, but that won’t stop me and it surely won’t help him in London.

I didn’t earn the reputation I have by going easy on anyone.

I haven’t put forth this spectacular resume that I’ve earned by pulling punches.

I didn’t accumulate 78 wins in my career by being a nice guy.

Fact is, I am a pretty nice guy… out there.

When it comes to wrestling.  When it comes to my career.  When it comes to my track record of remarkability, I’m not very nice at all.  Another fact, Centurion knows that his time is up.  Whether it’s the actual end or not remains to be seen but I can promise you one thing.  Sunday night in London, he will not add one more to his win column.  He will not raise his hands in victory.  He will pass that torch willingly or otherwise, because I’m taking that whether he likes it or not.  I don’t want to beat a guy while he’s down, while he’s licking his wounds, but I have to because it’s my job and you don’t become the star that I am in a business like this by holding back.

I hope he comes out throwing caution to the wind.  I hope he goes out on his sword pulling everything he’s ever known out of his bag of tricks because he’ll need everything he knows and some he doesn’t in order to defeat me.  Even then, I question whether it’ll be enough.

For the first…

Last…

And only time…

Centurion…

I finally get to welcome you to the Thaddeus Duke Show.

---

Present Day - Rural Kentucky


As I looked through the scope, I searched for any reason not to pull the trigger.  Listening to her rhetoric and the resounding approval of her supporters, it was clear to me, and maybe I should’ve known all along.  The woman at the other end of my barrel is not Dolly Waters.

”If you think for even a second that anything she says sounds like something Dolly Waters would say, then don’t take the shot,” Paul’s words from the other morning reverberated through my mind’s eye.

Still though, the face I saw, the voice I heard, the girl I loved so much since before I was even a wrestling superstar, peered back at me through the scope.  Desperately, I listened as she spoke searching for even the slightest resemblance to the Dolly Waters that I knew.

And it never came.

Steadying myself and calibrating my aim, I slowed down my breathing.  Taking shorter and shorter, shallower and shallower breaths, my trigger hand began to tense as the trigger itself pushed back against my finger.

”I got you Misty,” I said quietly to myself.  For an instant, time slowed to almost a complete stop.


POP!

Like a crack of thunder, the bullet escaped the barrel and soon after, Misty Waters’ head split open like a cantaloupe.  I watched for a moment as panic set in and security frantically tried to assess the situation.  Disassembling the weapon, it was back in its case and I was back in the old Chevy and off into the woods like I’d never been there at all.

Sometime later, I found myself in the hills of Kentucky headed for West Virginia when my cell rang.

"Hey Bud," I answered.

"Dad, where the hell did you go?" he asked.  "It's not like you to just up and leave and be unreachable."

"I know, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I said shamefully.  "I had to go hunting."

"You don't even hunt."

"Different kind of hunt," I laughed.

"Oh," he said with an air of understanding.  "Who were you hunting for?"

"For Dolly," I replied as I crossed state lines.