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Post by Shaun Hart on Mar 27, 2023 18:54:54 GMT
( Former IIW Tag Team Champion Thaddeus Duke return to IIW with one goal in mind and that's to become a Champion again but this time his eyes are on the IIW International Championship but first he must go through a tournament full of top competitors Match Three Round One of The IIW International Tournament Standard Singles Match Goth vs Thaddeus Duke
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Goth
New Member
Posts: 3
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Post by Goth on Mar 31, 2023 17:55:52 GMT
It’s only a day after the March Madness PPV, where Goth walked out of the ring as the newly crowned Xtreme champion. The opportunity to earn a briefcase for a Universal title match has begun, something that the veteran didn’t blinded himself with, he knows the dangers that lurk ahead of him. The daily challenges of people trying to steal away the championship, the in ring challenges from anyone and no one in particular. And yet he welcomes it, he thrives under the pressure and the desire to once again being the hunted instead of being the hunter. It fits perfectly with his Roulette championship that he has won earlier this year in Sin City Wrestling, his 11th title that he had garnered throughout his illustrious career. Some would assume that your thirst for glory must have been clenched by now, but not with the Gothic One. Las Vegas, Nevada Goth is sitting at his own personal house that he had ordered to be made inside the Nevada desert, just an hour drive away from las Vegas. He had bought many acres of land, it was not much as nobody saw the need to price tag the value of the land as he obtained it for a lousy amount. But now?? He grins, he watches the artificial grass making it very inviting for anyone to just step out of their shoes and walk barefooted across it. The swimming pool that is of the size of an Olympic swimming pool and his personal gym that he had created on the ground floor of his home away from home. He grabs a glass of water, takes a sip from it as he lets his fingers touch the scars that he had suffered in his match against John Black. “John Black….,”Goth mutters underneath his breath, causing him to smirk at the mere thought of the man that has held the championship before he took it away from him. A man that had shown many different sides to his character, what made Goth wonder if the man truly had allowed the world to show his true colours. The Thug gimmick was something that Goth had seen all too often, trying to imitate the gangster impressions that children had grown up watching on television throughout the last three decades or so. Whether it was Ice-T and his Body Count, or whether it were one of the originators in groups like N.W.A or Public Enemy. He always had respect for artists like Tu Pac, men that had the ability to spread his message and touch his audience in a way that only the very best could. He had always preferred the heavier music, the Metal that cranked up the guitars, made your brain explode in combination with the heavy bass and kicks of the drums that gets completed by the metal voices of a Robert Halford, Ronnie James Dio and or even the unsung heroes that only the hardcore fans would remember, but never get airtime on radio transmissions. Goth looks over his shoulder, stares at the bed that has the newly obtained championship from XWF. A fed that people say that you got to earn a title win, now he has done so. The pointing fingers will now fade away as snow that melts away under the sun with temperatures reaching high beneath zero degrees. A championship that has been held by many names, a mid card championship that originally was made just to please the lower tier wrestlers that would not achieve anything worth the mention when it came down to world championships or those titles slightly underneath it. But goth has got his sights set to six more title defences, spread across different programs of XWF. 6 title defences, 6 gruelling competitive matches and he would earn an opportunity to cash in a briefcase for a shot at the top title. A level that Goth feels that he deserves to be at. “You go to sleep little one, daddy will watch over you.”His eyes remain fixated upon his championship, as if there’s a desire creeping over him. A desire that has been haunting him since his second match last year in the XWF, facing Latina Submission Machina for that championship. He would have won if she had not lost the belt due to the ruling of having to defend it 24/7. Then there was the loss to Atara Themis in a multi wrestler match, then Atara lost it and the history goes on and on and on. And then the mental breakdowns, allowing him to see ghosts of his history past. Nearly yanking all of his hairs out of his mental scalp. He had come to an inch of just putting a bullet to his head if he had not overcome the mental breakdown challenge by winning the Xtreme championship. Is he satisfied?? Yes, but only for now. Because once you have tasted that delicious taste of success.. then you want more and what better than to do so on a dbut on a tournament in a new company. “IIW”A croaked voice breaks the silence that he had for a few moments, yet for him it seemed as if it was. He snaps his head away from the championship belt, breathing heavily as his senses seem to have heard something that he cannot place. Sweat is pouring from his brow, thinking back to the horror like mental attacks he had endured by his vampire ghost from the past. A former competitor that he had a rivalry with during the early 2000’s where he had broken through anonymity. He always had fond memories back to these days, but she had always given him a dark chill that had taught him how to fight for everything instead of always expecting things to just be handed to you. He raises his hands in front of his face, he sees the life lines on his hands, mixed with the scars from past wars. He remembered how he and the woman he had been married to for over half of his life had gone to a fortune teller,, allowing her to read the future based from what his hands would tell her. He had never taken it seriously, but he had to admit that many years later that most of them had come true. Just that one moment that he wish didn’t happen. “Sapphira….,”He lowers his head, closes his eyes as he mentions the name of his deceased wife. The woman that he fell in love with in his teens, that saved him from being a street thug in the Netherlands and fled to America to become a wrestler. The woman that has stood by him when they had rented the cheapest hotels to save money, all the way to the glory days when he broke through in the big leagues. He would have given it all up for at least have the woman he loves so much back in his life, until he has met his fiancé. A tear escapes his right eye, he tried to squeeze it tight. He rubs the tear from his cheek by his right hand, rubbing it between his fingers before the tear vanishes upon his skin. His breathing increases slightly, the frustration is brewing as he has not been able to give it a spot in his life to fully move on. He has wanted to do so, looing bac to his moment that he finally found the courage to ask Melissa to marry him at the Summer XXXTreme extravaganza in Sin City Wrestling. And still, there is so much more that he wants to achieve. “CCPE vs. The World…..,”The sentence of the first super show of the year, where he issued an open challenge against Joe Montuari. A match that many considered to be very close, yet he did lose. He was the first of the World that people could refer to give them the green light to take over and dominate the entire super card. A normal man would have been upset, a normal man would have been disappointed in himself and accuse everyone for the failure. But he took this as a positive, to work harder and go back to the basics that has gotten him to the main stage in the first place. And now two title reigns later in just a few months afterwards has put him just right where he wanted to be…. But it is still not enough for him. “The opportunity to become number one contender to WGWF’s Intercontinental championship….”He smirks, that rolled so nicely off the tongue as shakes his head, there’s the tournament for the vacated championship belt in IIW where he will be competing against Thaddeus Duke in the opening round of the IIW International championship. “The Inter Gothic National Tournament….”He rolls his eyes, he knows it sounds fucked up. But it made him remember that one time that he became world champion in a different company and brought out his very own modified championship belt and named it the Gothic championship. Management hated it at first, but quickly whistled to a different tune when it became one of their best selling merchandise ever. “Perhaps I should do the same for either the WGWF or this company, giving them a third dimensional look to something that is stale to begin with.”He snorts his nose, spits out some fluid to a corner in the room. He looked after the direction that his spit went before touching the ground as he shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention back again. He grabs the glass of water and holds it in front of his face, he gazes into the water and takes another sip from it before leaning his head back against the headpiece of the bench that he was seated at. The view seems to be endless that surrounds him, no matter what direction he looks at it’s nothing but silence. Silence is what had driven him to have this built when he wanted to flee his home in Manhattan, New York. Sometimes the stressful way of living would get to him and he would reside to peace. Another reason is that mostly Sin City Wrestling and the WGWF would compete in the Las Vegas or other Nevada area’s. Making it more sensible for him to resort back to this place with his fiancé. “I knew I would find you here…”Says his fiancé Melissa as she walks out and joins him, she has a large can of water as she pours some fresh and cold water into his glass as it was nearly empty. She then does the same for herself before the two would toast to each other and watch the landscape of their home and desert surrounding. Goth smiles as he feels Melissa’s arm smoothly embraces that of Goth’s, they have been sitting here so often since they had fallen in love with each other so many years ago that he could not live without. A thought struck him, the memory him staring into her eyes after he had come back from rehab. At first he could not even remember that he had hired her to be his sons babysitter, he knew he had hired someone but that happened on a weekly basis as nobody had the stomach to go through what he would put them through with his massive alcohol abuse. But she was a feisty one, realizing that he needed help and had him being thrown into a rehab facility… a decision that he could now honestly say has saved his life. ”You look wonderful tonight love.”He says as he allowed himself to be freed from his memory and stare into her eyes, watching her smile and blush just as much as the first time he had complimented her. That was something that he adored from her, A side of her that she would only show to those who she loved, while for the outside of the world she was the hardest and meanest bitch that he has ever seen inside the ring. Already within a period of 9 months has she won her second championship belt and dominated most of her matches that she was in. it didn’t caused her to receive many compliments from her fellow wrestlers, but she wasn’t I this for the compliments but to secure her legacy as the very best in the industry. He smiles towards her for a few more seconds before turning his gaze back towards his land and sinks back into the memory of him being dragged towards the rehab centre while wearing a straightjacket in order that he could not hurt himself or anyone else. *****Memory Number One***** “GET ME OUT OF THIS!!! YOU GOT NO RIGHT!!!!!”It’s 2018, the day that Melissa had arranged for him to be brought into a rehab cenre for his alcohol abuse. He had not wanted to go willingly, so several medics had come and forced him to be put in a straight jacket. The entire situation had cost them at least fifteen minutes, but perhaps longer to get him tied up. The fight he had put up had caused some broken noses, a bruised lip and even some teeth knocked out of someone’s mouth. “I want to go back to my wife!!!!!”This was a thing that happened occasionally when he had too much to drink, he started to hallucinate that his wife was suddenly in life once more. This was the reason why he reached out for any kind of alcohol that he could his hands on, to flee from reality and make his very own. It sometimes had caused him to wake up in a pool of his own vomit while being strip naked from the waist up inside his garden in Manhattan, New York. Police had even thrown him in jail for a night for walking around drunk in Central Park. “She promised me that she wouldn’t call you people!! I don’t understand why she did this to me and our son!!!”He is rolling around in his own room, no furniture to be found just soft pillows everywhere so that he could not harm himself while being locked up inside the straight jacket. He has his face driven into the pillows while having his ass lifted up in the air as he is on his knees trying to lift his upper body from the ground as he was surrounded by his own puke. The alcohol that was still in his system as well as the fact he hasn’t eaten in quite some time made it impossible for him to do so. Ultimately falling to his side as his face is completely covered with his very own filth. “I hate you all!!!!”He struggles a few more minutes longer to get back to his feet, but ultimately he falls asleep. It would have been the first time in a very long time that he actually had a good night sleep without having any nightmares about his wife. That was always a hell for him, not knowing how to cope with the loss of the one woman he had loved more than he had loved himself. That very morning “Ugh…, where am I???”His words are immediately met with a massive headache that caused him to groan, his body is a complete mess as he had slept in the most unnatural position known to mankind while being strapped in by a straight jacket. A few moments later his smell starts to get activated, causing him to smell his very own vomit. Causing himself to nearly vomit all over that as he manages to roll himself away from it in desperation to catch some oxygen to breathe through. Ultimately he does succeed, causing him to inhale the normal oxygen that he gladly accepts to run freely through his body. But the sickness that is stuck into his skin and hair as well as the taste of vomit inside of his mouth caused him to cough out loud, coughing for several minutes as he keeps rolling around. He suddenly hears a door open as that seems to be so far away from him. He turns around towards the direction where the sound has come from as he notices a young woman enter the room on the other side of the glass wall that separates them. “Who the f*** are you??”His voice is completely destroyed, realizing that he needs something to drink to get the taste out of his mouth. His lips feel like sand paper and he notices for the first time in a very long time that he needs to shave. The woman sits down, completely ignoring the remark towards her as she starts to write something on a notebook before turning her attention towards him. She lowers her glasses down upon her nose, causing her eyes to just be underneath the above the top edge of the glasses. “How do you feel Mr. van der Krift?” The words sink into his brain, it angers him. He cocks his head towards the woman, who he didn’t believe that she could be any older than 30. Wondering whether she was provoking him to unleash towards her with the anger that he si feeling inside of him. Causing him to sigh before rolling towards a wall with his back and stare at her through some of thick hair that is glued together. “Let me see, I just woke up in a straight jacket. I am covered in my own puke and my body is fucked up. But you want to know how I am feeling???”He smirks, believing that he would get a reaction from the woman. But the only thing that he gets is a simple nod from her as she writes something down and looks back up. “Dear Mr. van der Krift, we understand why you have been drinking, but…”“You do, don’t you??”This causes her to lift an eyebrow towards him “Excuse me???”“No, you cannot back off now. You know so damn well why I am drinking huh?? Now you made me so fucking curious, so tell me what the hell the reason is that I am drinking bitch!!”“I…,”“You know what?? I will spoil the fucking surprise, I will tell you and the entire world why the fuck I prefer to be wasted than sober!! And that is a trend that you or whomever the reason is that I am here have broken!! You see, I cannot look myself in the mirror every single fucking day that I am not wasted!! I cannot bare the the weight of having lost the love of my life because of that damn disease!! It should hae been me!! She wanted a life that I had been desperately trying to give her and for some fucking reason it has been all taken away!!!
“No shut up!! I don’t want you to utter your mouth until I am done!!!”He screams at her as he had noticed that she wanted to say something, his anger is growing inside of him as he didn’t wanted to be confronted with his personal demons. “Who did this to me?? Who in the right mind has got the right to put me through THIs!!!!”He motions with his head towards his filth covered straight jacket and pj pants that he is wearing. Tears of frustration and anguish are streaming over his cheeks, but he is too oblivious to even acknowledge them “We received a call from a Melissa, who…,”Goth was about to open his mouth, but the name of his then baby sitter had caused him to overthink his next tirade of anger and frustration. He must have admit that he did kind of liked that young lady, she was a tough cookie that didn’t stayed away after witnessing him coming home drunk from the bar, contrary to others she even helped him take a shower and put him to bed. He remembers how she had made him a cup of coffee and a nice breakfast the next morning as she had called in from not going back home. That had caused him to have a day that he actually did not reached out for the next bottle of alcohol and waste himself, yet he had not expected this from her. He was conflicted, not so sure whether he should have been angry at her or not. She did told him that day that he had remained sober that she would take action if he would have gone out of line, but he assumed she was just bluffing as the following nights nothing had happened…. Nothing, except for right now that is. “Melissa???”He asks dumbfoundedly towards the young lady, who has recovered some of her composure and silently nods her head. Not so sure of how he would react, but the only reaction that he could give was a stunned look on his face as he turned his gaze to the right. “I guess she is indeed that tough bitch that she had warned me about.”In truth, he was actually glad it was her. Hre had been having names of old friends in the back of his head, those of whom he had been dying to curse at and blame them from leaving him at his weakest moment. Although he knew deep down in his heart that it was him that had annihilated all of them, his alcohol abuse had caused them to walk away from him one by one. The only one that stuck by him through thick and thin was the one that he had not expected it from as this has changed his entire perspective of why he was actually here. He lowers his head as he drops to his knees, resisting the tears that are now flowing even harder than before. But the only difference between now and a few moments ago is that he has noticed it, he knows why he is crying and it is a feeling that he has not felt in a very long time. So much emotions and thoughts are running through his mind and all are about Melissa, how he had to admit that he now saw her in a different way. He had to admit that he had always been attracted to her, felt wonderful every time that she smiled towards him. Only to dismiss it every single time, thinking that he could not have feelings for a young lady like her…. that would have been a betrayal to the trust and love of his deceased wife. And yet this moment feels so different, he feels a glow of emotions wrapping around him as if it is a protective blanket. Changing the outcome of how he has looked at life the last nine months since his wife had died. “Are you alright Mr. van der Krift??”The young woman asks him, but those words are as if they were directed to deaf man’s ears. He is completely engulfed in his own personal emotions, his own memories that are shattering his protective walls that he has set up against anyone out there that he believed were out to harm him. His thoughts travel towards his son as well, feeling guilty for the mere fact that at this is the first time him actually having his son on his mid that he could remember. He drops down to his side before ultimately ending up on his back against the soft pillow like floor of the room he is in. he stares at the bright lights above his head, feeling the warm lights touch his skin as if it was the touch of a woman. This causes him to smile, a smile that he has not produced in seemingly years now. Realizing that the woman of his dreams is once again back with him, the woman that he had been together with for so long time. The woman that he loves to call…. “Melissa……,”This stuns him, he did not meant to say that name or did he?? He turns his head to the other side, closing his eyes real tight while focusing on his breathing. Trying to get all of his physical and emotional issues under control as he sees a woman. The outlines shows him that it is a woman, blonde flowing hairs as he had loved so much. The graceful way how her hands are moving is telling him that this is the one for sure, that this isn’t…. “Melissa?”Again her face emerges in his memories, her smile and her lovely hair that flows in front of her face with every movement. His upper body rises up from the ground as if it is being lift ed off the ground by a helicopter saving him from a terrible situation. He leans on his powerul neck and head while groaning. Not believing that he was thinking about his babysitter instead of his wife, HIS VERY OWN WIFE!!! He did not care that she is no longer alive, because for him she was still very much alive. She was the reason why he didn’t committed suicide or any other desperate action to flee from his suffering… except his alcohol. “I…,”The first letter of the sentence I am sorry that he wanted to say so desperately came out as if he was eating sandpaper. A sensation as if his lungs were collapsing on him every time that he attempts to suck in some oxygen for his body. He feels his hands tingle, he feels his arms to get numb and his eyes cannot produce the clear outline of what is in front of him. Light becomes darkness, darkness turns back into light. Sweat is pouring from his face as he is struggling to keep his sanity before all that is around him has turned into darkness as the last thing that he heard was…. “Help is under way Mr. van der Krift, you just had a shock.”The only thing that he can hear is his very own breathing while the rest of him has turned into dark pitch black. But this time he is calm, he is no longer terrified of what will happen to him tomorrow. This time he knows that there is someone out there that cares about him, someone that is looking out for him and his son… Someone that may even love him…. To be continue…… Thaddeus DukeIts late, the streets have been vacated and merely some lights are shining bright. A mere figure can be seen walking around the pave walk, holding a walking cane in his left hand while admiring the scenery while rain pours down from the heavens upon the man’s head. He is wearing a long gentleman’s coat that tries to cover as much of his clothing. His long black hair is clinging on to his face as he stands in front of a flickering lamppost as it struggles to continue to shine brightly as it’s counter parts further down the pave walk. The figure lifts his hand towards his face, wipes some water from his upper lip before dropping it once again while never taking his eyes of the lamppost. The camera zooms in on the man, causing us to recognize the man they call Goth, a 21 year veteran that has been active in several federations as of late. A man that has competed only a few months ago against Joe Montuari, the same man that had relinquished the championship belt as he had secured the top title. “Isn’t interesting how some things just keep running in circles???”Goth mumbles to himself, looking around him as if he is searching for a living soul to talk to, but everything surrounding him has turned into a ghost town. The thought amuses him as he pulls out a chewing gum out one of his outer pockets in his coat and puts it in his mouth after releasing it from its package. He gently starts to chew while taking a few more steps towards the corner of the pave walk that he is walking on. There he looks around and is pondering whether he should turn right or cross the road. “What would you do in a situation like this Thad???”The words from goth come out of his mouth so sudden, turning his his eyes towards the camera that passes him from his right side, smirking as he he knew there wouldn’t be any answer coming. “I know that we haven’t formerly introduced ourselves before our fight Thad, you don’t mind me calling you that do you?? Even though we don’t know each other personally, I somehow feel that we are connected with each other. Whether this is because I am part of something that you once were? Or the mere fact that I just love a good story of a returning superstar to a company he used to compete for, makes me wonder whether you feel that same way Thad?? Or are you merely in it for the money?? Either way, it’s all fair game my friend. It won’t change the outcome one damn bit.”His jaw is moving oh so gently up and down while orientating the whole surrounding before deciding that it is time to cross the road, he checks to the left and then to the right firs tbefore looking towards the restaurant on the other side of the road. He decides to cross the road and attempts to move around the large puddles of water before setting foot on the pave walk on the opposite side. There he looks around and enters the restaurant. Inside the restaurant we notice that the lights are dimmed to create a certain atmosphere for its customers that want to have some sort of privacy. Goth hands his long coat to employee that stands at the door before taking him towards a table before signalling for a waiter to bring Goth the menu. Goth runs his eyes past the menu, orders something in particular and looks around. The restaurant is rather gloomy, he hears some soft music playing on the background he recognizes as the Depeche Mode as this causes him to smile. “Nothing that beats a classic…, ”He leans back, awaits for his drink to arrive as the waiter comes back a few moments later with his order. Goth grabs the glass of water and nods towards the waiter who leaves Goth to assist some other customers that just entered the restaurant. Goth follows their movements as he is always interested in others, trying to figure out whatever it is that separates one from the other. But he quickly dierts his eyes once more as he looks into the camera lenses that has taken a seat in front of him. “I figured that two individuals of our stature could find a moment to sit down and have a conversation. Even though that it is only a one direction conversation as you aren’t here physically. But that’s okay, I guess you just need to understand that I desire to take charge and…well keep your mouth shut. Forgive me for being insensitive, but that’s how things just work around here.”He grabs a napkin next to him on the table, wipes some of the rain from his forehead as he drops it next to the silverware that the waiter had placed in front of him after bringing him the glass of water. “People usually tend to have a constructive conversation in order to figure out whether they have something in common. But we already are way past that stage aren’t we?? No formalities are needed, because within a week or so we are intending to beat the living shit out of other”
“I forgot to tell you that I wasn’t intending to build things up slow, because I don’t intend to look past me after I have dropped you from this entire tournament where only two lucky souls are destined to fight for the title in the finals.”
“I guess so far so good right??”He stops as the waiter comes down to his table with some slices of baguette and some cheese for him to take some bites from while waiting for his dinner to be made as Goth nods towards the waiter in approval. “Doesn’t this look tasteful Thad?? Baguette, a traditional French invention that when warm from the oven I just love to sink my teeth into.”He says as he takes a bite from it with a small slice of cheese on top of it, savouring the taste as he looks around and monitors some guests before slowly getting bored with it. “You may ask yourself whether this piece of information holds any bearing towards our match or not, you may ask yourself whether any damn thing that I am going to be saying towards you holds any meaning. Because YOU are Thad Duke, but who am I?? huh?? Who is this individual that thinks that he has a shot in beating the likes of you?”He smirks as he takes another bite before looking inside the basket and sees a few more slices left for him to eat. He feels the warmth slowly rising towards his face allowing him to inhale the scent of the baguette as he pushes the final part of the piece in his mouth before grabbing the next one. “You could consider these slices of baguette as the tournament thatwe are in. we all start off hot we all are ready to go and everything is just amazing and great. As if it is the best piece of baguette that you have ever experienced eating. But you understand that if you are not fast enough.”He puts some cheese on top of the baguette and takes a first bite from the second slice while taking his time in chewing it before swallowing. “You start to realize that things get more difficult, you need to sink your teeth deeper into the fabric that what makes a good baguette before beign capable of swallowing it in its entirety. But those who do not give in when things get harder they prevail Thad, something I hope you haven’t forgotten about.”He takes a sip from his glass of wine and then grabs the final slice, he notices that this one has already cooled off a little . the structure has hardened as it makes it less as easy as the two prior to this one to eat, but ultimately he manages to do so with several sips of wine to combine the two flavours. “I know you will use your past experiences against me as a former member of CCPE, I know that you left for whatever reason to join Saga. I don’t care, I am here to add a few more notches on my belt of casualties that I don’t care whether I know them or don’t. it’s all about that International championship Thad, the mere thought that as being THE outsider of all eight that was invited to uphold something that none of you all could withstand me. Sounds like a fairy tale doesn’t it?? “
“It’s just like the Blast From The Past in Sin City Wrestling, where everyone is inited to join a mixed tag team tournament. The winners get a shot at the men’s and women’s championships.. no matter whether you are a part of the roster or not, a former star or just a journeyman. And guess what my dear soon to be departed friend of mine, I am going to win that one too.”
“It’s quite simple if you think about it, I open my mouth and tell the world exactly what I am going to do. The other fifteen competitors will do the same, it’s what is expected from us. But when you stare into these eyes Thad…”Goth words are suddenly being interrupted by the waiter as he delivers Goth his dinner, filling his plate with Spaghetti, making him lower his face a few inches as it allows him to inhale the scent even better. He closes his eyes and sighs of anticipation before grabbing his silverware and starts to feast away upon the Italian dish. “I have been around for over twenty years, but there’s no desire to hold back. I am actually more hungry for success than I have ever been in, because of the opportunity that I have gotten to represent CCPE but mostly MY very own legacy upon the entire world!! I have been satisfied by merely being a Sin City Wrestling Homestay for way too long. Ignoring the desire of WHAT IF?? What if I dared to challenge the very best, what if I enter realms that you have done as well… What IF I merely annihilate you from this tournament and hold a minute of silence for you.”
“A minute of silence to remember the legacy that you have left behind. A minute of silence for the fans that will remember you for what you once were. Sharing stories, give you a ten bell salute and all that case of respect. Because that’s not me, I don’t look behind.. I look ahead.., I look forward to sink my teeth into another warm baked baguette inside the four corners of the pro wrestling ring. To devour every single bit of it before satisfying my need for that single moment. Because moments are meant to last only a few seconds… and then they are just like burden for those who cling on to it. I see a man that needs to cling desperately onto something that you need, you just don’t know what it is do you???”
“I’m going to continue on this dinner Thad, I’m going to enjoy the taste of every taste of this and see you next week my friend. Because this was a moment where we share our thoughts, when the next week we will share our memories… YOUR memories… but until then my friend…,”Goth smirks as he continues to eat as the shot slowly fades. To be continued
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Goth
New Member
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Post by Goth on Apr 7, 2023 20:17:17 GMT
Are You Reeady??
Present day
“Let me ask you a simple question before I speak from the heat.”
There’s a moment of silence as Goth is seen seated in a pub in Manchester, England. He is dinking some of the infamous English Ale while staring at a wall filled with Manchester United memorabilia as in scarfs, shirts and even signed autographs from legends like Roy Keane, David Beckham, Eric Cantona as well as famous Dutch players as in Jaap Stam and Ruud Van Nistelrooy. The man is wearing a leathe jacket, dark blue jeans and leather boots with steel toes.
“Is it typical for a past champion in IIW history to keep his opponent waiting for this long?? Is this a way of playing hide and seek?? Hoping that I would forget about you and not show up to forfeit the match?? Because honestly?? I’m disappointed that a former IIW tag team champion in Thaddeus Duke would keep himself absent as long as he has been since the first round brackets have been announced. But hey, who knows. I may just be just slightly too wet behind the ears to fall for an ancient trick of underestimating my opponent.”
Goth smirks as he shakes his head, staring at the picture of Van The Man. The nickname that his fellow Dutch Striker Van Nistelrooy had garnered during his time in Manchester.
“It’s quite obvious that you are just hiding behind a rock Thad, I do hope you don’t mind me calling you like that?? You see, I personally like to make things a little bit more intimate, that we can just call out on each other’s flaws and understand that there’s no underhanded tactics behind it. I just like to tell the truth, give you my opinion and hope.”
“Hope, it’s such an interesting word isn’t it??? We all hope for a miracle, we all hope to win the jackpot at least once in our lives…. And we hope to make a grand return to a company that you once have been a part off and relive some glorious moments don’t we?? Hope…. Such a shot, yet meaningful word.”
Goth takes another sip from the glass and stares at the picture of his fellow country man.
“This man made people hope too, on one side of the pitch it was the hope that he would strike fear into the hearts of the opposition. And on the other end, it was the hope that he would miss a penalty kick when the moment came that he would place that ball on the penalty area before taking a few steps back. To be in a position that everything surrounding you has just vanished for a period of what?? Ten seconds?? And that the only things that matters are you, that ball and the goalie that tries so desperately to intimidate you into missing the goal. Quite fascinating to a battle of the minds wouldn’t you agree Thad??”
He takes another sip before turning his attention towards the tough defender in other fellow Country man Jaap Stam.
“Arguably one of the toughest defenders that the Dutch football has ever seen in the last 50 years or so. A man that people often confused themselves over the fact that he was nothing more than a tough guy, who loved to send fear into the opposing strikers with his speed, with his power and size and most of all the mean tackles that could have hospitalized his opponents if they didn’t paid enough attention. Yet ignoring the mere fact that this man was one of the most intelligent defenders ever known to the sport of football. Something that you should be aware of Thad.”
“Not so much that you will be inside the ring with a retired pro footballer, because that would be too easy for a return isn’t it?? And besides, we both know that this isn’t the type of return that you got in mind now is it?? Oh no, you have returned to IIW because there’s a championship belt waiting for you right???”
Goth shakes his head as he takes another sip of his ale before ordering another one as his glass was empty. He waits for the bartender to refill his glass as he nods his head and takes another sip from it.
“Let me ask you something Thad?? Were you certain of yourself that you would pick up that what J Mont had dropped after winning the big belt?? Or was it just another capital crime in hoping that YOU could pick up the slack what J Mont had left behind?? Because quite frankly I’m sure that this wasn’t the opportunity that you have been waiting for now have you?? A sixteen person tournament, 8 IIW home grown and 8 outsiders?? Well let’s just say it’s seven outsiders, 8 home grown and then there’s YOU. Suely makes you feel a little bit more welcome now does it???”
“Forgive me if I am just uttering the truth, but there’s nothing else to say about this isn’t it?? You just thew your name into a hat of many other names out there with what?? Hope?? Hope of advancing several rounds before facing names that I am sure that you have faced before. Hoping that you would get a psychological advantage over them for having been away for so long and that they may have forgotten about you?? Because lets face it, you didn’t decide to partake in this tournament to be ousted in the first round now did you???”
Goth lifts an eyebrow as his left eye slowly turns towards the camera while having his focus still on the picture of Jaap Stam.
“Once again, I’m just stating facts Thad. Facts that I am stating from hat I have seen from you so far since the card went up a while ago. Facts over the mere notion that you, as a former IIW superstar and even a former CCPE member surely have been a disappointment. People would have had expectations for you Thad, hell I have already have been hearing the sounds of those who have already been making excuses for you for why you haven’t showed up just yet. And quite honestly Thad?? Even though I understand,, I really hate the fact that others need to clean up the mess that you are starting to create in your return by keeping your mouth shut. It makes me wonder whether you have been taking the lyrics from Ronan Keating too seriously, because if you believe that if the line: “You said it best, when you said nothing at al.” Because that’s the most stupid thing that I have ever heard Thad, because that would put the pressure on your hopeful return into nothing but shattering pieces of glass.”
“You do know that glass represents weakness right?? You do know that I do not tolerate a weak piece of shit to confront me in this tournament to determine who will walk out with that title and have someone that I expected more from!! Perhaps this is the reason why you left in the first place?? Or did they just fire your ass when you decided to close your mouth.”
He rolls his eyes before sighing as he takes another sip from the glass of ale.
“Did you know how often I had to cry myself to sleep throughout the years that I have been wrestling Thad?? Yeah you heard me correctly, I cried myself to sleep. Because I take this spot seriously, I take the art of physical and mental warfare to the highest of expectations. Because it’s either two or more individuals promising the world exactly what they will do to each other, but mostly towards each other. We create expectations that at least I know that I can fulfil… but people that have done similar things that you have been doing so far does not earn my respect Thad… They deserve the pain that I have been feeling every single night that YOU HAVE BEN HIDING!!!”
His free hand slowly turns into a fist, causing the skin colour to turn pale white because of the strain that he puts on his muscles.
“You see Thad, there are two different types of characters when it comes down to wrestlers. Those like myself, who bust their asses off to create their legacy and maintain it, but the other side of the coin are the cowards that you are turning out to be. But before you start to obliterate me by telling lies, because I am not proclaiming you to be a coward just yet. But you got so much time left to show up and make your entire career credible… Making the people in this company and on the outside know that they can look at you without having to be ashamed of your character. I mean seriously Thad, at least if you are scared then be the man and say so!!”
His breathing is starting to get heavier, grinding his teeth against each other while holding the glass of ale in front of his face as if he has forgotten about the ale that he was drinking. It took him several moments before snapping out of his concentration that had angered him.
“Forgive me for showing a side of me that not many have seen from me before, not that it will help you though. Because when the bell has rang on the tenth of April, I will exactly know what you are Thad. Because right now I am allowing you to have the benefit of the doubt. But Monday I will crush you, I will take away the HOPE that you once had before setting your eyes upon and realize that all the tales about me have been true. It’s just a shame that it took you this long to figure that out.”
To be continued
April 3rd 2023
Another week has passed, Goth has been active in different companies as of late just as we have documented last week. This past Sunday he had watched on as Mac Ban was one of the few that advanced in the first round of the Blast From The Past tournament with his mixed tag team partner. A tournament that Mac Bane had won last year while being the world heavyweight champion. A feat that Goth had hoped to achieve in his past attempts, but sadly failed. Including last year when he and his tag team partner were ousted from the tournament in the semi finals by Mac Bane and Mikah, who eventually won it.
The mere thought of teaming up with fellow CCPE member Kim Pain has been a blessing for him, a tag team partner that he knew he could rely upon and ice versa. Making him realize that he could go up against any of the remaining teams that are left in this tournament, to finalize his dream as finally taking home the glory of being crowned number one contender for the world title.
“Gerrit? Have you seen my cell phone by any chance??”
Goth’s head rises up from his book that he was reading as he hears his fiancé Melissa asking him about her cell phone. An often recurring situation as Melissa was surprisingly the sloppy one of the two and often left her stuff in places that she couldn’t find it. He mentally sighs as he takes off his reading glasses and places it upon the small table in front of him along with the book that he was reading before getting off the lounge chair that he was sitting in. He readjusts his shirt, stares at her wondering off and gets a chuckle out of the sight of her being so in stress. He then looks around and notices the cell phone to be on top of the dinner table, at the same spot that she had been sitting during dinner. He sighs as he is about to walk towards the spot and save her from her misery, but decided against it as he starts to smile.
“It’s about time I teach this young woman a lesson.”
He says under a soft whisper, soft enough for Melissa not to detect on the moment that she walked back into the living room. He admires her beauty, even though she was wearing comfy clothing she still managed to look amazing as always. She was wearing one of his older shirts, that she had tied up in a knot around her waist so that he could see her sexy, yet muscular stomach and that adorable belly button. Underneath it she was wearing a tight jeans like shorts that just contains the majority of her backside except for the bottom part of it. a sight that he had always enjoyed when watching her bend forward to grab something. He quickly turns his head as he had started to notice Melissa noticing him staring at her body.
“I asked you to help me find my cell phone Gerrit, not to ogle me.”
She said but has a twinkle in her eye, she enjoyed it when she made him stare at her body. She had always said that: ”If you got it, flaunt it.” aura over her that he could not help but love. He walked over towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist before pulling her close against him, allowing him to inhale the scent of her favourite perfume he had bought her.
“Later tiger, first we got to find my cell phone.”
But her refusal came out weak, he knew that she was this close to just forget about her cell phone all together and pull him back into the bedroom. This was the moment that he decided to direct his attention towards the dinner table, where he oh so sudden had “found” her cell phone.
“Maybe if you looked over there??”
He extends his arm, pointing towards the dinner table as Melissa quickly turns her head and follows his direction, noticing the cell phone and sighs of relief.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you baby.”
She happily hops over towards the dinner table and picks up her cell phone, quickly checking whether she had missed some calls or received messages before turning her attention back to Goth. Who was already moving back towards the lounge chair in order to reach over to grab the book he was reading. Quickly dropping down on the lounge chair and about to put on his reading glasses when he senses Melissa’s arms wrapping around his massive chest and scratches the fabric of his shirt with her nails. This causes him to whimper softly, admittingly enjoying the sensations that she was giving him before stopping as she heads off to the living room door.
“Talk to you later sweetie, Kim is waiting for me.”
Goth couldn’t help but chuckle, he shook his head as he turns his attention back to the book he was reading. Melissa and Kim Pain have become very good friends since he, Melissa and Kim had joined CCPE. She even asked the blonde woman to be one of her maids of honour later this year at their wedding during the Cruise Ship Supe Card from Sin City Wrestling. A night that Goth had told himself that if he wouldn’t achieve the greatest accolade in his career, that is besides marrying Melissa to win the SCW world title for a final time that he would eventually retire from Sin City Wrestling. Having achieved everything a wrestler could achieve as his search is going forwards to new challenges.
He had vowed to stay around SCW because of Melissa’s career, but they have had talks of perhaps having her look past the borders of the wrestling company and se where the grass ultimately could be much greener than what she had been accustomed to during her debut mid last year. He reopens the book as he readjusts his reading glasses. He was old school, he knew of e-books and audio books, but he had preferred to have bundle still attached between his fingers. Melissa had tried to make him change his mind by buying him a tablet and some e-books, but it wasn’t the same for him. Causing hr to use the tablet for her own use instead.
“Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes, chapter 30”
The camera pans over to his side, where it can read the title of the book. Showcasing that it is the third book in the Lord Of The Rings trilogy entitled: The Return Of The King. He had to admit, he had never heard of these books before until having seen the movies from Peter Jackson. He had fallen in love with the story from the first moment that the movie was displayed on the screen of his personal movie theatre he had created for his personal use, he sometimes invited a selected group of friends or family members to watch some movies with him in the theatre, as it has enough seats for ten individuals
His eyes travel across the pages, soaking up every single word and sentence. He had to admit that the visual artform of displaying movies on screen had captivated his imagination since his youth, but the written word has captured him even more since he had decided to read books five years ago. Reading classics from Anne Rice, J. R. R. Tolkien and many others are still on his wish list.. But first he has to finish the final instalment of the tale of how Frodo Baggins and his companions would overcome the seemingly overwhelming odds, temptation and betrayal and friendship are the keywords in this story, a fantasy realm that he to this very day could not imagine that it all came from the mind of one man..
His eyes travels to the final sentence, devouring the words with his eyes before turning towards the next page. Only to be distracted by the buzzing of his cellphone.
“Let me guess, Melissa has locked herself out again??”
He chuckles, thinking back to where Melissa had gone out, only to come to the conclusion when she came home that she had forgotten the key to get home. He stares at his cell phone and reads the message that to his surprise isn’t from Melissa.
“Hey Brother, I’m in the area. Want to catch something to drink?? Jonathan Porter.”
Goth’s eyes widen, he has not talked to his old tag team partner in ages. He closes his book, take off his reading glasses as he thinks back to the days where he and Jonathan first formed their bond in 2006.
“2006, damn. I am getting old.”
He scratches the back of his head, thinking back to the moment that two low card wrestlers decided to form a tag team. They even went so far to become blood brothers as a sign of trust between the two. They had won several tag team championships, even won tag team of the year. A true click between two individuals that didn’t knew each other before they just hooked up in the bar and shard a lot of beers. He remembered that he and his then wife were this close of leaving the company they were in, he just couldn’t find a rhythm and felt as they were outcast in this company.
“Sure thing, what do you got in mind??”
He was actually looking forward to it, meeting up with some old friends is always something he enjoyed. He quickly messages Melissa, letting her know about his plans and maybe to meet up later. He quickly grabs his jacket and reads the response from Jonathan and smirks as he remembers the spot that he wanted to meet up with him.
“Hard Rock Café huh?? I already knew he was the classy kind of establishment that I could expect from you.”
He smirks as he responds to his old friend before putting on the jacket and heads off as the shot slowly fades.
Hard Rock Café.
We come back to where we see Goth and Jonathan Porter seated in a booth in the Hard Rock Café. Goth and Fang (the name of Porter’s wrestling name) seated and sharing a few beers just like they have done in the past.
“And then all of the sudden we were the one tag team that the company didn’t wanted as their champions!!”
Both Goth and Fang burst out in laughter as they toast their bottles of beer against each other, Goth remembers how the established names didn’t liked them. How they were ridiculed for their stupid gimmicks together and believed that neither of them had a shot to be a success. Then the assumption was that it was nothing but a fluke win, that they would be nothing more than a one hit wonder. But time had proven that they were to stay, even when Goth had decided to focus solely on a singles career the Dark Enforcers were a main stay that people talked about with respect.
“Well in the end we both know whom the bosses loved more don’t we??”
Goth chuckles before taking the final sip from the fourth bottle of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Thinking about how the owners had confronted him, asking him to join their stable and turn his back to the stable he was in and especially towards his blood brother. At that point he had learned that in wrestling that you need to put business moves above friendship. This was the opportunity he knew that he needed to accept if he wanted to survive in the Global Wrestling Alliance and grow from.
He had come to the conclusion that with the group that he was in that he would never grow further from being the number four guy in the group. He had started to get upset that all the attention had gone to the established names in the group even though he was the most successful character of them all combined. Being both one of the co-holder of the tag titles as well as one of the middle tier championships.
“I hope you have gotten over the fact that you stabbed me in the back asshole.”
He said with a wink while finishing his bottle of beer before signalling for the waiter for another few beers. Goth smiled, he indeed had a hard time with this when it had came down to his blood brother. He felt conflicted, because he knew he had to do it… but he preferred to add his brother into the stable of the owners… but realized that they only wanted him.
“Who me?? Of course not, you do know you stink right???”
The waiter arrives with three bottles of beer each, they toast each other after removing the beer bottle caps. Goth looks at the man that for many years was one of his closest friends besides his deceased wife, noticing that he has grown grey hairs and has changed in a way that it made him laugh. At the first sight after many years not having seen each other for so long, calling his friend a humanoid. Looking back at this, he has wondered if he could change like his friend has done. Wondering whether he could move away from wrestling and becoming a father to his son, being a suitable husband.
“So how are you doing?? Enjoying your engagement??”
Goth lets out a sigh while nodding his head, he had expected the talk to turn serious between him and his best friend. H had been a big part of his and his deceased wife’s lies and he wasn’t sure how Jonathan would react to the news to him getting engaged for the second time to Melissa. Only to have his friend and wife welcome the news with open arms that made things so much easier for him to open up to them about it.
“What can I say? I believe this was one of the best decisions that I have ever made. But planning the marriage has been a major pain in the ass.”
Both men burst out in laughter, Fang reaches over across the table and slaps him on the shoulder. Goth winces, realizing that Fang still packs a big time punch after all these years, making him wonder if he has ever considered whether he would make a one time only comeback for some nostalgia pop. But quickly pushes the thought away, already aware what Fang’s answer would be over this.
“Well that’s what you get if you are so stubborn on taking care of everything by yourself knucklehead.”
Goth nods his head, he knew that his friend was right. But the memories of him and his deceased wife marrying in a drive through wedding chapel wasn’t something that he wanted to do with Melissa. That marriage happened because neither of them had a lot of money. It hurt him that he could not have had his mother and the remaining of his family. He had always wanted to give his wife the marriage that she had deserved, something they had done on their tenth year anniversary where he had flown every family member and friend that they ever had towards Bora Bora, where they held a wedding ceremony at the beach with the ocean behind them as the sun was slowly setting into the ocean. That was one of the most beautiful moment in his life, causing him to smile like crazy by thinking back to it.
“Do you two handsome devils have room for someone else??”
Both men look up from their seats and notice a grinning Melissa, standing there with her hands on her hips while still wearing the same outfit that Goth had seen her wearing when she left the home. Goth pushes the chai next to him backwards, giving he the chance to sit down next to him as they give each other a kiss.
“Next time that you want to know about our wedding plans, then please wait until I am around?? Because I know this handsome devil likes to boast a bit too much about that.”
The three of them share a laugh amongst each other as the shot slowly fades.
I am coming Thad
Manchester, England
Present day.
“It’s time to seal the deal Thad.”
Goth is in his hotel, he is resting on his bed as he is merely days away from his match against former IIW competitor Thaddeus Duke. He is bare chested upon his bed as we are able to see his many tattoos across his body. He is resting with both hands behind his back while watching some classic Monty Python programming as this relaxes him prior to a big time match.
“I already told you Thad, I expect a lot from you. I expect you to show up and tell the fucking world that why you believe that you will win this tournament and this title. Because the way I see things is that you are nothing more than a lazy bitch. Forgive me Thad, earlier on I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt because of your established name. But I no longer doubt about you son, I no longer cannot give you any benefit as you are nothing more than a waste of MY but also YOUR time. Do you know how I call people like you Thad??”
“People like you were often referred to as being nothing more than a disgrace, living from whatever you have accomplished in the past and believe that you are entitled to anything. You think that all that you touch with your stinking hands will turn into gold or something?? The more I dare to look into your direction, the more I want to vomit for the foul stench that you are starting to produce as a piece of shit. And I know, you and everyone in IIW may start to think who the fuck I am to start and tell you this. But I am the man that YOU wish to be, I am the man that has come back after a few years from being retired from this sports and succeed in where you fail. Hell son, I got two titles in two different companies that I successfully defend everywhere I go. I am the man that is on the lips and minds of every single wrestling company who are hoping to hire some CCPE prospects.”
“Hell, even WGWF is in full awe no matter whether I have won or lost, you on the other hand?? You just ran off to join a stable that is nothing more than merely a one hit wonder. Yeah you heard me Thad, it’s a group that look for someone that takes them by the hand and guide them to the promised land. Seriously Thad?? Was that the reason why you left?? Wee you already counting your blessings that you finally would have filled in that spot that was high upon your wish list?? Did you get lazy in CCPE son?? Did you one day wake up and realize that you no longer had the hunger and drive to compete amongst the elite of what this wrestling world has got to offer??”
“I know for a fact that this is the excuse you will hang up to every deaf man’s ear that is too clueless to realize that YOU just couldn’t compete anymore. Men like Peter Vaughn, Mark Flynn. Men like Bam Miller that you once believed would just carry your bags have now surpassed you in any fucking way?? A name like Mac Bane?? I can tell that you already figured that you were a small fish in a shark infested waters!! So go ahead, run off to those who once remembered you for what you once were and could have been IF….”
He grins as he slowly opens his eyes as he stares into the camera.
“IF yu had taken your career more seriously instead of just enjoying the good life. IF you had stayed hungry and got up in the early dawns of every morning and went home as the final person because you had the hunger to grow. Nothing of the sort and that’s why you ran off with the yellow streak between your legs and ran into the anonymity. I may have lost my match in CCPE, I may have dropped the ball against a talent like Joe Montuori. And yet I am exactly what they need!! I am the guy that makes Joe Montuori efer me as Mr. Goth instead of being whipped around like a joke.. and before you are clueless who I am referring to Thad. Then let me tell you that it will be the one person that I will either drop down for the three count or submit.”
“I can go on and on about what made you leave Thad, but that would not be fair and quickly it will bore everyone that is listening. So let me compare you against me and explain that this is arguably the worst pairing that you could have ever wished for. And I will tell you exactly why.”
Goth slowly sits up from his bed, resting his hands on either side of him as we see his eyes stare into the camera with the intensity of destroying his opponent.
“We have never met, we have never set foot inside the squared circle.. We are both established names in the wrestling world, hell Page has told many great things about you when I joined. And I guess that’s where our comparison ends Thad and where the differences between us begins. You see Thad, the two championship belts that I have right now would satisfy many average wrestlers. While I am never satisfied, because one evening you go to bed with a celebration for a title win, the next morning the hunger for more has reserviced. I am going to take home this championship belt, I am going to hold IIW hostage because they have been relying upon wrestlers like you Thad, average wrestlers. I am going to electrify the crowds just like I do in Sin City Wrestling, XWF and WGWF… and you?? After I beat you the only direction you will be heading is into anonymity.”
“Anonymity is fine for upstarts, young kids that need to learn the tricks of the trade. But a wrestler like you?? You embarrass yourself, you need to look at yourself and wonder whether you either need to quit or just tell the world after I have beaten you that you are a coward. Whether you still belong in the wrestling world, because the higher ups don’t want washed up has-beens. The indies are too hungry to rip your stinking head off your shoulders as they always taste your own stinking blood. And then you assume that you are going to relive old glory?? I am glory, I am the very best and that is what you are going to be experiencing this coming Monday on Mayhem in jolly Manchester, England.”
With that Goth laughs as the shot fades.
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Post by Thaddeus Duke on Apr 8, 2023 2:09:16 GMT
Lion's Guard Entertainment Offices One World Trade Center Lower Manhattan, New York City
"Tell him I'll call him back later," I say to Janet, my secretary, as I pass by her and into my office. Having office space inside One World Trade is more about business strategy than it is about status. I don't need status. I do need business. Here in New York, having coveted office space brings the illusion of grandeur and big time. I run several different ventures out of one floor of space including the New York Pride LFL team. Most notably of those, Lion's Guard Entertainment. For several months, I've been dealing with court proceedings over the title of my biggest, most ambitious film project. 'Copperhead Road' is inspired by the song of the same name and I've adamantly insisted that the name will stay.
Copyright holders feel differently. I've been court ordered to cease production for months. I'd rather pay an exorbitant fee for the right to keep the name. They want more.
Sitting behind my desk, the red office phone rings. In years past, the red phone meant something different than it does today. Previously, it meant something urgently needed my attention which normally had something to do with a war. Today, it's nothing more than a direct line to and from my ruthless shark of an attorney, Robert Zane.
"Robert?" I answered on speaker while I signed different forms.
"Thaddeus, have you thought about it?" He asked, referring to the latest offer from the copyright holders.
"I have," I answered while quickly skimming another form. "Fifty percent of gross revenue for nothing more than two words and inspiration is a non-starter for me."
"I kind of figured that much," Zane replies quickly. "But that might be what we have to pay in order to keep the name."
"Robert," I say with some anger in my voice. "I believe in this project. The cast is an ensemble. A literal who's who. There's a distinct possibility this film is a major hit when it's released and the more money it makes, the more I stand to lose.
"I don't know about you Robert, I might be loaded and wealthy, but I'm not willing to give up half the profit for a damn name especially when actor pay is directly tied to profit."
"The other option is to just change the name," Zane advises.
"Why the hell do they want half?" I asked with some fury attached. "We've already bought the rights to use the song in the damn film. Look at that Kate Bush song from Stranger Things. It's been on the charts since the show came out for the first time in over thirty years. That artist is making money hand over fist just from iTunes alone.
"’Copperhead Road’ could do the same thing."
"It's a money grab," Zane informs me. "They know it's a good story to tell. They know there's a major studio behind it. They know it's an ensemble cast. Most importantly, they know when this movie hits theaters, we're gonna cash in.
“They want their piece of the proverbial pie.”
"I don’t know, just figure this out and get me what I want Robert," I say to him before ending the call. Lifting my eyes, to my surprise, outside my transparent glass wall stands Damon Riggs in what seems to be a heated discussion with Janet.
You know how they say before careful what you wish for because you just might get it? More than a year ago, I walked into IIW as a relative unknown to they and their roster. More than a year ago, I walked into IIW alongside Chris Page as answers to an open challenge. More than a year ago, Chris and I walked out of Mayhem on day one with their tag team championships fully in our grasp.
We came.
We saw.
We lit up the scoreboard.
We conquered.
A conqueror is something I have been for my entire adult life. A conqueror is what I’ve been both personally and professionally. A conqueror is what it takes to set a goal for yourself and set out to achieve it no matter who you have to beat in order to do it.
Your Lionheart is a competitor through and through and one thing I always loved was facing the unknown, facing the unfamiliar, facing down a challenge no matter how stiff, no matter how difficult. As I alluded to on Mayhem, IIW and I have some unfinished business. What began as a promising partnership more than a year ago was short circuited by my own circumstances. Circumstances beyond my, or theirs for that matter, control.
If I have one regret about my short time in IIW last year, it wasn’t the short stay, it wasn’t my early exit, hell it wasn’t even the fact that I had to vacate my half of the tag team championship. My regret is that IIW, its fans, its roster never truly got to meet me. They never truly got to lay their eyes on me in the way I was meant to be seen. They never had a chance to have that full Thaddeus Duke experience.
Janet Wilson is a battle ax. She came to my service after my father's death. She worked for him in the same position at Veneras International in Virginia. Veneras has since been sold to Sebastian Everett-Bryce but Janet came to work for me in New York. For years, she acted as my father's gatekeeper. No one got in touch with him, no one got in to see him without her approval.
Now, she does that same thing for me and it's very evident, Damon Riggs is not having a good time. In order to hear what it is I'm seeing, I hit the intercom button on my office phone.
"No sir," Janet tells Damon as he motions for the door. "You do not have an appointment to see him. You will not see him."
"How do you know he didn't tell me to come in?" Damon asks with obvious frustration.
"Because he would have told me to add you to the list sir," she insists.
"This is ridiculous," Damon says with a disgusted shake of his head. "You're not big enough to stop me. I'm just going in."
"Suit yourself sir," Janet says to him without batting an eye.
Looking down at papers on my desk, I'm more curious to see how this plays out, than I am about why Damon Riggs is at my office. So, I pretend I don't know he's there. Damon pushes on my office door and he just about pancakes himself into it. What he doesn't realize is Janet controls the lock from her desk.
On the other side of the door, I can hear Damon sigh with exasperation.
"Mr. Riggs," Janet says without looking up from her desk. "Are you ready to make an appointment yet?"
"Yes ma'am," he says in defeat.
He probably feels about six inches tall right now. Thing about Janet is she makes everyone her bitch. Sometimes, even me.
Having seen enough and getting just a little bit of pleasure out of it, I get up to allow him access. If you don't know Damon Riggs, he's an overprotective, overstepping kind of guy. My wife lived with him for several years and he knew her when she was just a girl. Since the moment Lauren and I got together, he and I just never really saw eye to eye.
"Janet," I say as I poke my head through the glass door. "It's okay, I'll see him."
She turns her head slowly giving me the 'look.' Any man that has strong women in their life knows the 'look,' and they all fear it whether they'll admit it or not. If they don’t, they’re lying.
"...what?" I ask with a little worry in my voice.
"You will not see him sir," she insists. "Not until he makes an appointment. If I let him in now he'll think it's okay to just pop in uninvited and unexpected whenever he wants. You're a busy man. Don't you think that's a dangerous precedent to set?"
"I mean," I stammer. "I guess."
"She's really emasculating, you know that, right?" Damon says to me.
"Yeah," I agree. "She does that to me once or twice a week."
"I have a job to do sir," she reminds me. "I take my job very seriously and if I just allow anyone to see you willy nilly, then I'm ineffective at my job.
"Your name please?" She says while turning to Damon.
"Damon Riggs," he answers with a sigh. "Two G's."
"State your business," she instructs him.
"Personal meeting," he answers.
"Mr. Riggs, Thaddeus will see you now," she says with a victorious smile.
"Thank you Janet," he says as I open the door for him.
"Sorry 'bout that," I say as I lead him inside. "Janet… she's a…"
"Battle ax," he answers for me, echoing my own sentiments from earlier. "I like her."
"She's irreplaceable, man," I say as we both take our seats. "Damon, I'm a little surprised you're here. I don't pretend to know…"
"I'm here to invite you to dinner," he interrupted. "You, Lauren, the kids. Come to Jersey. Come to dinner with me and Jenna."
Ugggh God. Small doses. I can deal with this man in small doses only. Spending an extended amount of time with him is not something I consider ideal.
Like I said… we just don't get along.
"Listen, imma be real with you. That sounds like a horrible frickin' idea," I say as nicely as I can.
"It does," he agreed. "But whether either of us like it or not, we are family."
"With all due respect, we are not family," I argued.
"You really are a smug little shit, aren't you?" He asks.
"I'm not so little," I argue. "As you've seen first hand," I remind him with a knowing smirk.
Damon rolls his eyes, shakes his head and leans forward, furrowing his brow in my direction.
"Whether you're ready to acknowledge it or not Thaddeus," he begins. "Lauren is my family. She may have never carried my name but she is now, and will always be, my daughter.
"You pride yourself on being a family man and believe it or not, I respect that about you. You dedicate yourself to your wife and your children and I do admire that.
"What you're not seeing is that the day you married my daughter," he pauses as he grits his teeth in subdued anger. "In a God damn strip club no less, is the day the Duke's and the Riggs became one big happy dysfunctional family whether either of us like it or not."
"Hold that thought," I say to him as I hit the speaker button, then 'call' on the red phone. Damon looks on in confusion.
To be certain, that’s no one’s fault. It’s not theirs and it isn’t mine. I mean, I certainly didn’t shoot myself in the chest. I didn’t choose to have to take considerable time off.
It just is what it is.
Now, I’m filled with some excitement. Unlike my last foray into IIW, I’m not saddled with anyone else. I don’t have to spend hours filming some dull ass promotional material about wrestling. There’s a hell of a lot more to me than just being a wrestler.
I know I’m a wrestler. You know I’m a wrestler. They know I’m a wrestler. That’s literally why we’re all here. If you want promotional material revolving around only the fact that I’m a wrestler, for one, that’s not me. For another, it seems like an incredible waste of valuable time to see just one aspect of a mans life.
Pretty one dimensional, wouldn’t you say?
My life never has and never will revolve around my job as a professional shoot wrestler. This job is just one thing out of many that I do. My life is, does and always will revolve around my family. Around the things that I care about the most. That’s something none of y’all really got to see last year and that’s why I’m trying to re-introduce myself to all of you now.
My family deserves that. The IIW and its fans deserve that. Hell, even I deserve that.
"What’s up?" Robert Zane answers.
"There's another option you didn't mention," I informed him.
"What’s that?" He asked.
"Make an offer on the record company," I replied.
"So…" Zane pauses as he gathers his thoughts while Damon looks on. "Your counter to possibly coughing up fifty million or more in profit… is to spend probably a half billion dollars to buy the record company?"
"It's not the money, Robert," I remind him. "It's never the money. It's the principle of the thing."
Zane laughs audibly before I end the call.
"Sorry 'bout that," I say to Damon. "Films been in development hell for the last year over the damn title.
"Anyway," I say in an attempt to return to the topic of discussion. "I hadn't really thought about that. I'll ask Lauren. If she…"
"Do it now," Damon insists with some urgency, but with kindness. "Please."
What's the rush? I think to myself Despite my animosity toward this man and his family, and his insisting, I humor him and text my wife. Lauren responds nearly immediately with an emphatic "omg yes" that throws me off.
"Son of a…" I mutter under my breath.
"That was a yes?" Damon guesses correctly. To which, I merely nod. "Tomorrow at six then?" He asked as he stood and extended his hand.
"Yeah that's fine," I say with a reluctant acceptance of his gesture.
I’ll get to Goth here momentarily, but I want you to know who I am as a competitor before we get to him. See, I often get called cocky and arrogant and while that might be true on some level, what they’re seeing, what they’re reacting to is confidence. I started this gig when I was just 17 years old and following in the footsteps of greatness at such a young age, you have no other choice but to carry yourself a certain way.
I will never apologize for what and who I am as either a wrestler or a man in general. Yes, I was born into a vast fortune. Yes, once upon a time I did give the aura of entitlement, like I didn’t have to earn my place.
That… was by design.
When you’re 17 years old and you’re in the same place your father made famous. When you’re in the same place your father put on his back to carry into a new era, I figured it was best to act like I belonged in the same breath as he and my uncle.
See, it wasn’t easy wearing a famous last name. Everyone and anyone that stood across from me in those earliest days of my career all said the same damn thing. I was only a prominent figure, a prominent name, because I was my fathers son.
In some ways, maybe they were right. But at the same time, I had specific goals in mind. In order to realize those goals, I had to be my own man, I had to shed the shadow of a famous father and a lot of people think being the child of someone famous gives you a leg up but in all reality, it’s very easy to destroy your confidence if you start to believe the things people say.
I fell into that trap early on. I shot out of the starting gate like a freakin’ cannon. Success after success, victory after victory, championship after championship. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how hard I fought, no matter how many times I earned my way, they still said the same things.
You are who you are, not because you’re good, but because your daddy is who your daddy is.
A year into my career, the wheels started to shake. They started to fall off. My confidence was shaken. I was rattled to the core despite a lot of success because I allowed people to dictate who I was rather than show them by any means necessary.
I started acting out.
I started lashing out at those that until that point had supported me, supported my rise as a rookie teenage phenom. It came to a head and I was fired by my own uncle.
I was lost and alone. No one ever truly grasped what it was like to be Thaddeus Duke, son of a legend, while trying to make a name for himself in the same business.
People say a lot of things. Mostly about my money. Yeah I was born disgustingly wealthy and that’s not something I’ll apologize for either. Money isn’t now nor has it ever been what made me tick. It affords me certain financial advantages that most others don’t have but so what? Money didn’t buy my rookie year success. Money didn’t buy my sophomore downfall. Money didn’t buy my termination. Money sure as hell didn’t buy my confidence.
If you tell a lie often enough, sooner or later people will believe it and I’ll admit I fell into that trap. With my confidence broken I stepped away for several months. I stepped away and took care of my mental blockage that created the self doubt and self loathing that cost me my job.
I missed it.
I wanted it all back.
I loved the psychology of the whole thing. I loved stepping through the curtain and seeing thousands of men, women and children on their feet as my music played in the arenas. I loved putting on a show for them because they paid their hard earned money to watch me do what I do better than anyone in the world. I loved pulling them along for the ride as I told a story without using a word inside the squared circle.
We rose together.
We fell together.
As time went on while I was away, I was adamant that we’d rise again together. Like a phoenix from the ashes, it’s exactly what we did.
The Riggs' Mansion Riggs Family Compound Cape May, New Jersey
I'm not accustomed to feeling uncomfortable. Typically, it's me saying or doing something that makes others uncomfortable. Usually, it's me causing others to blink. Today is different.
Pulling the family Wagoneer through the front gates of the Riggs New Jersey compound, I'm borderline nervous. I want things to go well. Not for me. I couldn't care less about myself. Lauren is a different story altogether. Her birth family has nothing to do with her. People judge her based on what they think she is rather than who she truly is.
I should know.
I did it to her, too.
It's not something I'm proud of, but at the same time, her coming into my life when she did, how she did, really opened my eyes. I give her a lot of shit in public, but what most fail to realize, is that it's in jest. I love her with my whole entire heart. Never before and hopefully never again, have I felt the way I do about another person.
Not counting my children, obviously.
"Baby?" Lauren says as I slow the Jeep to a stop in front of the walk. To be honest, I'm entirely zoned out and I don't even hear her.
"Dad?" Calls Frankie from his spot in the backseat smack dab between his brother and sister in their car seats.
I'm a stubborn man. I don't like the Riggs. I don't like the Preston's. All I can see in my head is Damon saying something that's off base and out of line and then I'll have to verbally smack the shit out of him like I've done several times before.
It's easy to sit back as a spectator and think I should do this or say that and be the bigger person. A lot of times I am, but this whole damn family gets under my skin every damn time I'm reminded that they exist.
Not so much lately, but there were times Damon had to stick his nose into business that had nothing to do with him. And Dane Preston? That insufferable shit bag. Anytime he engages my wife in conversation, he has this ridiculous need to remind everyone that once upon a time, he and Lauren slept together.
Don't get me wrong, I don't care that they did. Hell, I'm no saint. Even since our marriage began, there was a time when there was never a shortage of partners I've been with that were not my wife. I'm not bragging. I'm not proud of what I was doing. Since then, I've stopped living on the wild side. I've stopped hurting the woman I love so much. I've re-dedicated myself to growing into my role as a good husband to my wife and father to my children.
But I do take exception to the constant reminder, the constant "look at me, look at me, I had sex with Thad's wife" nonsense all designed to stick a figurative dagger in my chest. Always done with no other intention than to stick in my craw.
Trust it's not the action, it's the intent behind it.
I knew I was good.
I knew I was damn good.
But I also knew it was a tall task to shed such a large shadow. For a time, I wasn’t even sure if it was possible to accomplish such a thing. It’s one thing to be good. It’s one thing to be successful. It’s something else entirely to try and outshine your father in the very place he made famous.
During my time away after my termination, I resolved not just to be good. I didn’t want to hold titles just for the sake of having them. I didn’t want to be a success without people believing I could do it based upon my own hard work and my own merits.
I needed them to believe in me for me.
More importantly, I needed to believe in myself again.
When I returned, I was not Thaddeus Duke. I mean, I was. I didn’t change a single thing about my repertoire. I didn’t change my gracefulness or my athleticism inside that ring. I wore a different name and a mask.
No one knew who I was but at the same time, I felt everyone knew. I just felt it was so obvious.
Match after match week after week, I never heard about my famous hall of fame father. I never heard how rich I was and how that got me where I was going. I never heard that I was living off of someone else’s fame.
All I heard was praise.
It was an experiment, see?
In order to prove to myself that I was every bit as good as I always thought I was, I had to shed the thing that was obvious. You can’t change your face. My face was famous so I had to cover it up.
They had no idea I was Thaddeus Duke. They had no idea I was the Lionheart. They had no idea whatsoever and all I heard was praise.
That kids got it.
That kid is a star.
That kid is goin’ places.
That kid is gonna run roughshod.
Validation.
Every time I turned around opponents and unknowing friends alike started saying things about me that I always believed but no one would admit. Rather than telling Thaddeus Duke that he lived off his fathers famous last name and that was the only reason he was put into this position or that one, they praised The Collector. They put The Collector on a pedestal and anointed him the next big thing.
I was the same person.
They just didn’t know it.
Everything they had previously denied they were now confirming en mass. And… it meant the fuckin’ world to me. All I ever needed was one damn person to say “Thad, you really do got it.”
Once I heard it, I was bursting at the seams to reveal myself. I didn’t want the mask. I didn’t want the moniker. All I ever wanted to be was Thaddeus Duke, just one of the boys.
So I shed the mask, I shed the moniker and shocked the world. Duke Nation rebuilt itself in a matter of seconds. The world acknowledged what I always thought was true but they’d always refused to admit.
My confidence was back.
And it’d never be broken again.
I am every bit as good as I’ve always claimed and no one worth a shit can deny it. Someone once said ‘they’ put a rocket on my back. Nah… I put it there. Through toughness. Tough determination. Through grit. Through being one of the most difficult mother fuckers to beat.
There was a rocket on my back, sure. That rocket really never ran out of fuel. Through seven championships across three companies its fuel is limitless. That rocket didn’t stop, until I took it off myself.
I am not a flawless man but I strive to give a five star caliber performance each and every time that bell rings. I enjoy earning my stripes. I enjoy getting my ass kicked. I enjoy kicking ass myself.
"DAD!" Frankie yells in my ear.
"What!? Jesus!" I call back as I try to drive the immediate ringing from my eardrum.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Lauren asks.
"Huh? Nothin'," I lied. "Was just thinkin' 'bout something."
"Well can we go inside?" The boy wonder asks. "I'm freakin' starvin'."
"Yeah let's get this over with," I say as we begin to file out of the car. The twins are not yet two but it takes a few minutes to get them out and on their little feet.
Caty is parked in Lauren’s arms as they and Frankie wait on the front walk for me while I switch sides and retrieve T.J.
"Dah," says my lil man.
"What?"
"Dah," he giggles.
"What?" I reply with a tickle of his little belly.
"DAH!" He squeals with joy.
"Talon," I mimic him and he laughs some more.
"Dah," he laughs hysterically as I unbuckle him from his seat.
T.J. climbs my arm and grapevines his legs as I carry him from the car to the walk. Setting him down, he holds my hand as we begin 'walkin' the Mile' I think to myself.
"Lil monkey," I say to the little lad. "Put her down, let her walk," I insisted to Lauren.
Our little family that I'm beyond proud of make our way toward the front door. Whether Lauren shares blood with them or not, she is as much their mother as I am their father. I'm not sure anything about her makes me more proud than that. She fell into the role and she loves every minute of it. She's so good in that role, that last year for Mothers Day, my adopted 12 year old Frankie and I, (two-teen if you ask him), unleashed our plan to make Lauren his adopted mother.
"Why are you making them walk?" Lauren asks as we slowly stroll toward the door.
"Um," I stammer for an answer before ultimately deciding to just be honest. "I'm kinda nervous and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with my hands."
"You're nervous?" Frankie asks as we walk.
"Yeah," I say quietly.
"Why?" Lauren asks as up ahead, the front door to the mansion opens and both Damon and his wife Jenna stand in the doorway.
"It's kinda hard to explain," I admit. "I just want things to go well and you know my mouth."
"Magic," Lauren says with a wink.
"That’s not what I mean," I reply to her with a smile. "But I know."
"Is that a sex joke?" Frankie asks.
"You are a sex joke," I answered him with a laugh.
"Leander!" Lauren shouts my middle name as she playfully slaps my shoulder.
"Eww," Frankie blurts out.
Frankie mimics barfing before grabbing Caty's hand. He fell into this life too. He's been a part of my life since he was 9 and he's been my adopted son since he was 10. Frankie was hesitant, reluctant even, in becoming a big brother. I wasn't sure how he'd react. He shares no blood with me or the twins and that by itself can create resentment and animosity.
We've had our struggles as he adjusted to his new life. At the same time, he never hesitated to be an awesome big brother. There are times when he thinks no one is watching, where he sneaks out of bed just to read to them. Francis Robert Duke may not have been born a Duke, but he sure as hell makes me proud that he wears my name just about every time I look at him.
Looking on, Talon and I hang back as Lauren happily and eagerly greets Damon and Jenna. I've personally never met Jenna. I'm not nervous to meet her being that I have a way with women. I'm a pretty charming guy which disarms most fairly easily.
"Thaddeus," Damon greets with an extended hand and perhaps I'm a little surprised to see him smile in my direction.
"Damon," I greeted him back with a shake.
"Who're these little guys?" He asks as he smiles at T.J.
"That one is Frankie, he's twelve," I reply as Jenna, Caty and Lauren head inside the spacious mansion.
"He lies," Frankie cuts in. "I'm two-teen."
"Two-teen?" Damon asks him.
"Too smart for twelve, too dumb for thirteen," Frankie explains.
"So... were you one-teen last year?" Damon asks him as he politely plays along.
"Don't be ridiculous Mr. Riggs," Frankie chides him. "I was eleven."
"Yeah I don't know what I was thinking," Damon smiles at the boy. "What's being two-teen like?"
"It's new. That one struggles with it," he says while pointing inside the house to his mother.
"You're not two-teen Francis Robert!" She corrected him. "You're twelve. Deal with it."
Damon chuckles.
"This one is easier," he says in reference to me.
"Well Frankie, head inside. Make yourself at home," Damon says. "Let me get a better look at this one," he says while turning his attention to Talon.
Hesitantly, I handed him off. I know there's no danger here. At the same time, I'm extremely protective of my children. I let very few people this close to them.
"This is Talon James," I say to Damon as we enter the house. "Mostly we just call him T.J."
"It's a good lookin' brood," he says nicely.
"Yeah well," I begin. Sometimes, I can't really help myself. "Consider the source."
For a moment, I expect some snide remarks. Instead, Damon looks at me with a smile. Initially he says nothing while he passes his eyes back and forth between Talon and I.
"They're not identical twins," he observed correctly.
"Nah," I confirmed. "Caty looks more like her mom."
"Well Talon," he says sweetly to him. "You look exactly like your daddy, don't you?"
I can't see my own face, but I can only imagine I'm beaming with a bit of pride.
"Talon is an interesting name," Damon says as he sets the little tyke on the floor. Immediately, T.J. crawls away at the toddler equivalent of the speed of light.
"Frankie picked it," I informed him. "His middle name is after my friend James. Caty is actually Caitlyn. She's named after my mother."
"That’s nice," he says as he and I stroll through the foyer toward the dining room. "Where's your mother now?"
Awkward.
For a moment, I didn't answer him. I may be an open book, but I'm still hesitant with people I don't know that I can trust. Thinking it over quickly, I decide to let my guard down and be genuine.
"My mother died when I was just a few months old," I answered.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he says as he stops in his tracks and looks me in my face.
"More accurately Damon, she was murdered by my father," I admitted.
He looks back at me like he doesn't know what to say. Not that I expected him to. To be honest, I'm not sure what it is about him that disarmed me enough to tell him something so deeply personal. Something that has weighed on my mind for as long as I have memories.
"How 'bout we have a drink before dinner?" He offers.
Saying nothing immediately, I only nod in agreement. "Just a swallow though man," I say as he leads me to the bar. "I'm driving and that is not a risk I take with my kids."
He slaps me on the back with a bit of a smile as we turn the corner into the bar.
Through everything. Through all the years and all the triumphant wins and all the heartbreaking losses. The highs, the lows, being fired and rehired. Shattered and rebuilt confidence. World champion and not. Through my layoff and owning another wrestling company. All of it brings me to this moment.
I’ll be honest, I sometimes wonder how much I really want to do this anymore. I often wonder if my time isn’t better spent being a good father and husband. I think a lot about all my other projects and business ventures that I put on the back burner just to keep up appearances. I’ve given so much of my life to this business even before I became a wrestler myself. I was born into this business and I might only be 24 years old but I’ve spent 100% of my life in or around it.
Arrogance.
I said previously that people call me arrogant. They do it because I state exactly who and what I am, then I live up to it much to the chagrin of many. I am unapologetically me, but let me tell you why. I learned that if you own who and what you are, good, bad or indifferent, no one… not a soul can hurt you with it. I am a great many things, but none of them are perfect.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m unafraid to bare my soul to each and every one of you. I’m unafraid to take risks. I am unafraid to put my body on the line even if it means one misstep means I lost rather than won.
One win or one loss does not create a legacy.
One win or one loss does not complete a journey.
I don’t know how much time I have left as an active competitor in this business. Maybe a year, maybe five years. Ten is probably out of the question, if I’m honest.
What I do know, is that I have a legacy whose final chapter has yet to be written. What I do know is that this is an odyssey, a journey that is not over yet. I do know that win or lose, it doesn’t end with Goth on Mayhem.
There will come a time.
I’ll know when it’s time.
It isn’t now.
I’m the kind of man that more often than not prides himself on earning his way. I pride myself on earning every damn thing I have ever won. While I didn’t join this tournament in hopes of wearing IIW gold again, I do have a sense of unfinished business. The last time IIW saw me in action, I was one half of the tag team champions and I never lost that title. I had to vacate due to my own life circumstances and again, not anyone’s fault. IIW had to move on and I had to take care of business. To this point in my career, it’s the only title I’ve ever had to vacate. I wasn’t a fan then and I’m still not today.
Someone possessed something they did not earn.
I mean, that happens a lot in this business, but never at my expense.
Again, me coming to IIW and entering the International Championship tournament isn’t so much about the championship. Why I entered was for the opportunity to face opponents I’ve never had the opportunity to face. The opportunity to beat people I’ve never beat.
Though I do plan on winning.
I do plan on becoming the next International champion in a long line of great former champions. I do plan on putting my name right over theirs and forcing IIW to remember my name the way it ought to be.
As greatness in the flesh.
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Post by Thaddeus Duke on Apr 8, 2023 20:51:23 GMT
Before dinner, Damon and I engaged in a little bit of small talk inside the bar room. Rather than alcohol, he gave me a can of Dr. Pepper.
Smart man.
As nervous as I was in coming here, and again, not from fear or intimidation, but because I have no filter. When people say something I don't like, Damon and his extended family have done it before, I have a tendency to verbally strike back with a vengeance.
He knows it too.
I won't say he's afraid of me doing that because I don't think that's the case. He's an old veteran wrestler. He's done, seen and heard it all. But there are eggshells all over the house with both of us trying hard to stay in our own lane. For what it's worth, I do respect him for inviting me and my family into his home and treating me fairly with respect.
Well, so far at least.
The night is young.
I also respect him for at least trying to get to know Thaddeus the man, the father, the husband rather than Thaddeus the wrestler, the twitter shit tweeter.
Dinner was pretty amazing, I won't lie. Small talk, laughter, the older teenage boys Damon Junior and Jason Junior… while Damon Junior is obvious, I have no idea who Jason is Junior to and I didn't ask… point is, they were friendly and kind to Frankie which is all I could ask for. All three have since run off somewhere in the large mansion to play video games.
While I publicly put a smile on my face, privately I'm a little sad. Lauren has not associated herself with the Riggs in over a year. I can't help but think that's my fault. That maybe she made a conscious effort to stay away solely for my benefit.
If that's the case, I feel terrible for it.
Since the very second I became a father, I have been family first. I will remain that way until I draw my last breath. Since the day I married Lauren, I have been unintentionally selfish. Unintentional or not, selfishness is still the result. It is clear as daylight at this little family dinner party that in spite of everything that has been said from either side, the Riggs think of Lauren as part of their family and she reciprocates that same sentiment.
Just because they're not my family, doesn't mean they aren't hers. Lauren is my wife. Her family is mine now too. The Riggs and myself, despite our many differences, probably have more in common than either of us are willing to admit… or maybe were willing to admit.
"Dear," Jenna Riggs says quietly to her husband. "You need to go take your Methotrexate."
While I hadn't been necessarily listening to her words, one in particular most certainly caught my ear. Suddenly, I'm awash with sorrow and confronted with internal pain.
"Excuse me a minute," Damon says as he stands. Politely, Lauren and I stand as they do. "Thad, back to the bar in a few?"
"Yeah," I say while choking back some sudden emotion. "Lookin' forward to it." That actually was not a lie and that, in and of itself, throws me for a bit of a loop.
Continuing to stand until Damon and Jenna exit the dining room, once they're out of sight I throw myself back down in the dining room chair.
Hello Goth.
I said I’d get to you and I sincerely apologize for taking this long. I’m a bit busy, as we all are. I’m a man of my word so Goth, I need to preface anything and everything I may say to you in the coming moments by telling you… no hard feelings man. It’s just business.
The main reason I’m in this tournament, as I said, was not for gold so much as new opponents and opportunities. Goth is the next on the list. Goth… my man… XWF Xtreme champion…
You are about to be welcomed to the Thaddeus Duke Show.
Maybe that’s what they mean when they talk about arrogance.
Anyway…
Goth, I need to ask you something. I won’t get a response, at least not on air because it’s too late for that but I gotta ask you. Do you have a life outside of wrestling? Do you have a personality other than that of big dark broody make up wearing windbag?
John Black?
You go home to your place outside Vegas and you think about John Black?
I know John Black.
I like John Black.
I’ve known him since I was just a little dude runnin’ around the back at XWF shows when my dad was the star of the show. I mean, congrats on the Xtreme title win and all that but dude, no one sweats John Black. No one thinks about John Black.
Never once in my adult life have I gone home after an event, sat on my couch and thought about John freakin’ Black. I’ve legitimately mentioned his name more in just this promo alone than I have in my entire life.
Know what I do when not in the ring? I play with my kids. I f*** my hot wife. I hang out with my friends. I run my business. I sure don't think about wrestling when it's time for regular life.
See, it’s nothin’ personal man. I just don’t think you’re what others make you out to be. Don’t misunderstand me. I respect your ability. I respect your willingness to get in the ring with anyone and whether you win or you lose, you just keep on truckin’.
Now, maybe I haven’t been a wrestler for 20 or 30 years like you have, but I have been in and around it my whole entire life. My 24 years I guess puts us on at least somewhat equal footing.
Except…
It really doesn’t.
There are so few men and women in this industry that can actually stand toe to toe with me and give me a run for my money. Fewer still that can actually beat me.
Again it isn’t anything personal. Just, I know what I bring to the table. I know what it is I can do inside those ropes. I know how to be the better man on any given night. Forget what I look like. Forget all the things you might think about pretty boys is the rough and tumble wrasslin’ business.
There ain’t a man I won’t step to.
"I'm so glad we did this," Lauren says to me.
"Yeah," I replied quietly.
"It's been so long," she reminds me.
"Yeah," again, I replied quietly.
"Baby it hasn't been bad," she says while cluing in on my demeanor.
"Huh?"
"We've all been having a good time," she defends her case.
"Yeah yeah, I'm good," I insisted to her. As far as Damon goes, I don’t know who knows what, if it’s some big secret. But I know what Methotrexate is.
"Then what's wrong?" She asked.
"Huh? Nothing," I lied. For some reason, I didn't want her to know what I was thinking about.
"Ready Thad?" Damon asks as he and Jenna re-enter the dining room.
"Yeah," I answered. After a peck on Lauren’s cheek, I stand to follow Damon. "Enjoy your visit with Jenna."
Trying hard to bury what it is I'm thinking about, or more accurately, who, I follow Damon back into the bar.
"One beer?" He asked as we entered.
"One, but no more," I insisted.
To my surprise, my host retrieved then handed me a Miller High Life. Ridiculously wealthy I may be, but I do have some every man tastes. High Life is one of them.
"That’s delicious," I say with a smile, but quickly, my brain wanders back to what I was thinking back in the dining room.
"I think this night has gone better than either of us thought it would," Damon says after a sip of his own drink. Very likely it’s just water. It’s ridiculously dangerous to mix alcohol and the medication he’s on.
"Damon, if you don't mind my asking," I begin to ignore my instinct to say nothing. "What brand of cancer do you have?"
An introduction.
Is that what you needed?
Is that something you needed to get the measure of me?
You couldn’t hit the archives here? Or OCW? Or the XWF? You couldn’t check the networks and click on some old Thad Duke matches to know what and who it is that you’re up against? Was I supposed to meet you backstage and be like “what up mr. goth man, here’s all the things I’m good at, and here are the few things I’m maybe not so good at”?
Goth, I have never been in the business of helping my opponents. I have never been in the business of doing their homework for them. My profession is wrestling. My business is winning.
I have been a diligent note taker, tape watcher, and studier since before I even laced up my boots for the first time. That’s what sets people like me apart from people like you.
I don’t rest on my laurels. I don’t rest on my name value. I work hard. I keep working hard. Since my debut I have continued to evolve my game. I have continued to improve my repertoire. I have continued to work on my mechanics.
Trust me Goth.
I take this shit seriously.
I take being great to a whole ‘nother level and I know how great I am. People don’t like that much. But I do not care.
Not once have I ever given a damn about my bank account and what’s in it. I don’t care how many zeros are attached. I am not and have not been professionally motivated by money.
Only love.
Love of the sport.
Love of competition.
Love of entertaining the masses.
Love of making overgrown meatheads look even more stupid than they typically are. Love of silencing doubters. Love of making them eat their words when they doubt my mental or physical toughness.
No matter what you think, no matter what you say, no matter what you do. I am the Lionheart through and through. It’s not just a nickname. It’s a way of life. It’s how I’ve carried myself throughout my entire career. I’ve earned the moniker ten times over.
And I don’t plan on changin’.
I don’t take it easy.
I don’t take a night off.
Each and every time you see Thaddeus Duke, you see me full throttle. You see me gunin’ to win, shootin’ to thrill, and gearin’ up for the best man on the card.
I’ll agree with you on one point though. You are absolutely right that even had we been introduced, there ain’t a damn thing that would’ve changed about the outcome of this match. I’m comin’ to Manchester. I’m comin’ to Mayhem to compete for the first time in nearly a year and I’m emphatically stating that without a shadow of a doubt Goth, I am punching my ticket through to the next round of the tournament.
I hate to break it to you man, but there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it but show up, eat my kick, and stare at the lights as the official counts the three.
Not all is lost though my dude. At least you’ll still have that Xtreme title to hang your hat on.
Initially he sits quietly. For a moment, I begin to wonder if maybe I overstepped. I think that maybe, as well as this dinner was going, that perhaps talking about his cancer was a bridge too far.
"How'd you know?" He asks before answering my inquiry.
"The Methotrexate," I answered him. “I know all too well that that’s a cancer drug.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair before taking a sip of water. Through the silence, I wondered if I didn’t piss him off this time. It wasn’t my intent. Despite what we’ve gone through over the last year, I felt like he and I reached a new level in our relationship. Previously it was filled with animosity on my end. On his end, I’m not sure. He didn’t know me from Adam but it didn’t stop him from judging me the moment he laid eyes on me.
Maybe I did the same thing.
Maybe we were both wrong.
"Who did you lose?" He asked, cutting through the silence.
Suddenly, I'm thrown back in time within my own head. I'm taken back to September of 2021. The Final War, as it came to be known, was winding toward its conclusion. On the once sprawling Duke Compound in Connecticut, since razed to the ground by my enemies, then stood a training ground for my now disbanded military.
We were ramping up preparations for the last battle. My best friend James Edwards, affectionately called Jim, and I were walking the grounds as my uniformed men and women went through their paces. He collapsed suddenly. Jim had been cancer stricken for months. On that day, he'd take a turn for the worse that he'd never recover from.
Jim had been by my side at that point for more than seven years. Seven years then had been a third of my whole life. He was a bodyguard when I was young. He was a confidant. He was my closest advisor. Sometimes, he was even my conscience. I was an only child but he was the closest thing I had to a brother.
Though I knew it was coming soon, I was far from prepared. I mean, how do you prepare for that? How do you get yourself ready to lose the one person that through thick and thin, through trials and tribulations and all the ups and downs of military and regular everyday life, always stood by your side? The answer is, you never really do.
Jim declined quickly. With him bedridden, I refused to engage our enemies for that final battle. I was scared that I'd be in the war zone and he'd pass without me there to hold his hand, to remind him how much I love him, to express my gratitude for his service to me and my family. Mostly, to let him know just how much I'd miss him and how much I'd regret that we'd never fulfill the plans we shared to raise our kids together.
He'd never had children. He'd never taken a wife. As far as I know, he never had so much as a date with another man or woman. James was wholly dedicated to helping me win the final war and to be honest, I'm not sure I could've done it without him.
Thinking back to those final hours on the 21st of September in 2021, I’m overcome with emotion. Tears escape my eyes as I stare into space in Damon’s general direction. Jim laid on his bed riddled with pain and gasping for the breath that would never come. I was a wreck. My closest friend was dying. I was a hero to millions of kids all over the world but there were no heroics in the cards on this day. Jim Edwards was going to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was nothing I could do to keep him with me.
I recall him asking me to help him die that day. Obviously I refused. Either out of selfishness or morality, I’m not sure which. He begged and pleaded. Overcome with emotion and sobbing, I reluctantly agreed. He was in so much pain and it hurt him just to breathe. All I wanted was to take that away from him. It was cruel poetry. The man never smoked a day in his life, but lung cancer was taking him away.
Did they have backyard wrestling before you started professionally Goth? I’m not being a smartass, it’s a legitimate question. I mean, everything you say it sounds and looks to me like you have a Casio cam corder in front of you and you’re about to take on Joey Ragz from over on Orchard street in a death match for a title made out of tin. It’s like you’ll beat the piss out of each other and pretend it was the greatest match in the history of wrestling and you and your little buds will talk about it tomorrow in fourth period lunch while planning your next backyard wrestling show.
Okay.
I was being a smartass.
Seriously dude. Do you even hear yourself? Do you really think some talk about a freakin’ baguette of all things is somehow a great analogy? I mean I can speak in tongues too, but at least when I do it, it’s legit. I don’t need to sound like I’m tryna talk my damn self up because I don’t really need to even do that.
It’s like you talk just to hear yourself talk. It doesn’t matter if it's coherent, it doesn’t matter if it makes a lick of sense, it doesn’t matter if it has any bearing whatsoever to Goth or Thaddeus Duke, yet you spit all that bland useless drivel anyway and we’re all supposed to stand there in awe of you. We’re all supposed to listen to your words and be inspired.
Did my silence offend you?
Did the fact that I lead a life outside of this industry hurt your little fee fee’s?
Does the fact that I used up nearly every minute of our allotted promotional time offend you oh great and powerful Goth?
I.
Don’t.
Care.
I am a busy man in and out of wrestling, Goth. Maybe that offends your old school sensibilities but I really don’t care about that either.
While I have already proven beyond a reasonable doubt that you really have no freakin’ clue who and what it is you’re up against on Mayhem, let’s just keep goin’ shall we?
Let’s leave reasonable doubt behind. Let’s pass that by and leave absolutely zero doubt whatsoever.
It’s like you’re out here sittin’ the front row tryna be the teachers pet. “Hey look, I got all my homework done before that guy. That should mean I get the better scores right?”
Cute.
But you’re wrong.
Doubting I’d show my homework is a grave mistake. I don’t exactly make commitments then not do the homework. I got news for ya man. I do things on my time, not yours. I do all my work, I do all my studying and meet all my deadlines and it doesn’t matter if I turn it in early are two minutes until time’s up.
I’ll still get higher marks than most because it’s what I do.
See in this business, it’s not always the early bird that catches the worm. Sometimes, the early bird gets f***ed in the ass because he got just a little too cocky. He got a little too big for his own damn breeches.
Next on the menu: Word Salad.
“James,” I finally answered Damon quietly. I know he can see the wet streaks down my cheek, but to his credit, he doesn’t even pay them any attention.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Damon advises me.
“No, it’s okay,” I replied quietly.
“He’s the one T.J. is named after?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I um,” I begin with a rattly voice, pausing to clear it. “He was in tremendous pain and couldn’t catch his breath. He asked me to help him die.”
Looking at Damon, he doesn’t react.
“I wouldn’t do it at first but he begged me,” I continued my story. “I held his home nurse at gunpoint until she gave me the code to the morphine pump. After I gave him the button, I punched in the code. I watched him click the little button until he passed out.
“I held his hand until…” ahem. “Until his heart stopped.” More accurately, his body convulsed. After he passed out, he had a massive heart attack due to the morphine. In a morbid sort of way, it was a win for Jim and a loss for the cancer that was trying to kill him. Jim may have lost his life, but he beat the cancer to the punch. His overdose killed him, not the cancer.
Looking at Damon, I can see him swallow. I wouldn’t ask, so I’ll never know if my story brought some emotion out of him or if it was just a coincidental swallow.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” he said to me quietly.
It felt genuine. “You’re the only person I have ever told that story to,” I informed him. “Not Seb, not even Lauren.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“It hurts too much even today,” I admitted to him. “Not only do I not tell anyone about his last moments. Damon, I don’t talk about Jim at all. To anyone. Ever.”
“Well maybe you should,” Damon advised me. “Grieving is part of the natural process Thad. We all go through it from time to time.”
“I didn’t have time to grieve,” I unintentionally snapped back. “As soon as I put him in the family mausoleum…” my voice trails off for a moment as the realization hits me. “I had a war to finish, Damon. I had a military to disband. I had a nation to dissolve. I had people I was responsible for that needed assurance that they’d have the right to live.
“I know, no one truly understands that and I really don’t ever expect them to. My life couldn’t stop just because his did.
“People in our business get pissed off at me all the time because I’m never afraid of them. It’s not bravado and it never has been,” I say before lifting my shirt to show him the now fading scar in the middle of my chest. “I’ve been shot. Shot down. My personal jet blown out of the damn sky. Bombed. Attacked in my own home. I’ve had bullets flying at my head since I was 15 years old.
“They never understand that a big tough scary wrestler, just isn’t scary to me. It’s child's play.”
I’ve known it my whole life. I’ve acknowledged it myself. Most of my blood relatives are gone now except my uncle Theo Pryce and two of my three kids. Frankie, Dolly Waters, Seb Bryce, Corey Smith, Jim. They may not share my blood, but they are my family.
“I get it now,” I say to him. “She might not have your blood Damon. But Lauren is your family.”
“I appreciate you telling me that story,” he says while leaning forward in his chair. “It let me know what kind of man you really are.”
“What kind of man is that?” I asked him out of curiosity.
“You’re a lover,” he begins to reply. “You take those that are close to you and you make them family because you practically have none at all. You may be a little misguided from time to time, but for the most part you’re a good, compassionate man.”
“Thank you,” I said to him genuinely. “Damon, I think I misjudged you.”
“I think I did the same.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “We really started off on the wrong foot.”
“I agree,” he replied quickly. “What specifically are you apologizing for? Out of curiosity.”
“The tape,” I said with a sigh. When Lauren and I first got together, Damon found himself meddling and I didn’t like it. There’s more to it than just that, but more on that in a minute.
“That was wrong,” he remembers with a shake of his head.
The tape in question was of me screwing Lauren. I just wanted to piss him off.
“Can I tell you why I did it?” I asked my host.
Saying nothing, he just motions with his hands to invite the explanation.
“You rooted for us to fail,” I began. “From the moment you found out Lauren was in a relationship with someone outside your circle, I was public enemy number one to you and yours. And I took that personally.
“I was to be squashed,” I lean toward him. “But I’m not so easily squashed.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did that. Understand Thad, that it was coming from the right place no matter how wrong it might’ve been.
“I see you and her now, more than a year later, and I can see that you genuinely love her.”
“I can’t imagine my life without her,” I admit to him. “The marital stuff aside Damon. She keeps me on my toes. I mean, I’ve had other relationships obviously. All they did was feed my ego. Lauren keeps my ego in check.”
“That she would,” he chuckles.
“It hasn’t all been easy,” I freely admitted. “She was struggling at adapting to my lifestyle and I was out bein’ a playboy.”
He exhales deeply.
“I’m not proud of that.”
“Is it out of your system?” he asked.
“I’m not sayin’ there aren’t temptations, but,” I pause briefly as I consider my answer. “She’s enough for me.”
“Good.”
Something has changed here. Maybe it was all wrestler bravado and chest puffing before. Now, it’s different. He’s making an effort to get to know me. I mean I guess he’s an okay guy but I felt comfortable enough talking to him about things that I don’t normally talk about with anyone except my shrink.
I think I respect this guy.
“Lauren has told me some things, but you know how she is,” I preface my redirect. “I’d like to hear it from your perspective.”
“About what?”
“How you know her,” I answered.
“She didn’t tell you?” he asks as he cocks his head a bit.
“I’m smart enough to know something happened that she doesn’t like talking about,” I replied quickly. “She’ll talk about her youth. She’ll talk about everything. Except how she met you.
“She just shuts down if I press. She rolls over and curls up.”
“What do you do?” he inquires.
“I roll over and wrap my arms around her until she falls asleep,” I answered back.
“Maybe it’s best if you hear it from her,” he suggests fairly.
“Maybe,” I agreed with him. “But I’m not hearing it from her.”
Damon stands for a moment. Grabbing my empty beer bottle, he walks to the bar to toss it away. After grabbing a couple bottles of water, my gracious host returns and takes a seat, handing me a bottle.
Holy shit dude. Alright, this time I’m actually not being a smartass. I’m legitimately giving you advice. For the betterment of this sport and I guess, for your benefit in future dealings with those maybe you’re not so familiar with.
Slow down.
Take a breath.
Consider your words.
Make sure they can carry weight.
Be doubly sure I’m not your opponent before you chew up and spit out that garbled barley listenable word salad you just wasted valuable IIW air time on.
Truth?
About me?
That’s what you’re doin’?
You’re tellin’ the truth about me?
BB, I hate to break it to you. All you got is a whole lotta fuckall. See how I got around the censors? Pretty clever, I know.
How can you pretend to know the truth about me when you’ve sat there whining for a week or however long its been, when you’ve repeatedly stated just how much you don’t know about me? When you’ve gone to the watch tower to yell to anyone that’ll listen that we don’t know each other.
And you have the audacity to sit there, stand there. Whatever the eff you’re doin’ and say that you’re tellin’ the truth about me?
You don’t know jack.
You know absolutely nothing about me and that’s a product of your own creation. I’ve said it before in these very proceedings and I’ll reiterate it now. You could have gone to multiple places, You could’ve viewed nearly a hundred different matches. You could’ve watched any single one of probably 700 different promos and learned everything you needed to know.
I get the sentiment. I do. You were ready for some back and forth battle of wits and I’m sorry that didn’t happen. Now let me tell the truth about you. The very fact of the matter is real simple Goth. This hypothetical battle of wits was just never gonna happen.
I know. I know. That sounds disappointing. Truth is though, its not a battle of wits when Goth just isn’t equipped with wit. He’s not equipped with substance. He’s not equipped with even a hint of personality.
All he’s got, is hubris. This self-fellating sense of ‘early’ being ‘better’ when in all reality, all he did was paint himself even further into the corner that I’mma beat him into and out of on Monday.
Just think if I engaged like he wanted me to. Just think of how much worse off he’d look if I made him stammer and search for the same words just in a different order that he used a minute or so prior. Imagine if I forced him into the corner LIVE and in person.
I mean, if anything. By doing my job on time like a normal person, I kinda did both Goth and IIW a service. I mean, dude still looks like a painted up jackass, but at least he still has hope to cling to when the bell rings.
“It’s really not my place to…”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted him. “Whatever it is, I should know about it. Whether you like it or not, whether anyone likes it or not, she is my wife now. Even if she’s not comfortable talking about it, someone else knows the story.”
“It was a little rinky dink indy show,” Damon begins. “We were doing some cross-promotional stuff and I was there. Lauren, her brothers, Maurice and… hell I forget the other ones name. They were part of that promotion.
“Lauren had hung around a lot. She had been helping with ring set up and generally was a hand to the crew. She was only thirteen, maybe 14 years old at the time.
“I had been backstage meeting with some folks and needed to talk to the promoter and couldn’t find him anywhere. Finally, I hunted him down in a backroom somewhere. I walked in and his pants were at his knees. Her underwear were torn from her…”
Red.
Alert.
Inside I was ready to burst. As a father, if anyone ever attempted that with my kids they’d be dead on sight. Consequences be damned. As a man, as a husband… I’m mortified. She was just a girl. Some sleezy old dude used his power and influence to take advantage of an already troubled girl.
“You alright?” he asked. He’d continued telling the story a moment ago but I had heard all I needed.
Saying nothing, I only look at the man that saved Lauren from a terrible outcome. Shaking my head slightly, he gets the picture.
“I stopped it before he…” his voice trails off as he eyeballs me. “Your face is red and your hands are trembling.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “We gotta go,” I say to him as I stand up suddenly.
Damon lunges to his feet and cuts off my path. He puts both hands on my shoulders and leans his forehead against mine. “You need to breathe,” he advises me. “You need to calm yourself before you go back out there. Before you see Lauren.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I admit to him quietly through grit teeth and a clenched jaw.
“You have to,” he insists. “She can’t know what I told you. Not now. She sees you like this Thaddeus, she’ll know. She’s not as stupid as she lets on.”
“I know,” I agreed with him. Backing away from him, I throw myself down in the chair with a million things, and at the same time, nothing running through my mind.
“You obviously have a temper,” he observes as he retakes his seat.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “One of those wonderful traits I got from my father,” I say sarcastically.
“It’s over,” he says with a pause. “It was almost twenty years ago.”
“I just imagine what I’d do if it was my daughter,” I say as I look into the overhead lighting.
“What would you do?”
“Nothing legal,” I answered as I turned my head toward him.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold,” he says. Immediately, but just for a fleeting moment, I’m thrown back to my youth. Many times while growing up, I’d heard my grandfather say the very same thing to my father.
“Our wedding,” I begin in an attempt to change the direction of conversation. “I noticed you weren’t that happy when you brought it up in my office.”
Damon leans back. “Why would I be?”
“Well, it wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”
“Oh?” he presses.
“Nah. I mean, I knew I wanted to marry her from the first moment she touched me. I was goin’ through some shit. I was facing my own mortality with the war. For the first time in four wars I worried that maybe I wasn’t coming back. I was worried about my kids, my friends. I was starin’ down the barrel of a loaded gun as I was about to face my father in the ring where I was either gonna prove all the things I had said for years were correct or fall on my face and look like a damn fraud…
“I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.”
“She would’ve been,” Damon interjects.
“It’s not the same thing,” I argued. “You know as well as I do that no matter how much money you have, it can’t fix everything. I knew she’d grown up rough. I just wanted to give her freedom. If I wasn’t coming back, she’d never again have to worry about a utility bill. Never have to worry about where her next meal was coming from.
“Man I even filmed a last will and testament on camera. Half my shit I gave to others I loved. A shitload went to my kids, obviously. Half of everything I was leaving to her.
“I wanted to make sure that financially, she never had to lower herself to do something she didn’t really want to do ever again.”
“That’s commendable,” he states in response.
“We were supposed to have a real wedding last summer,” I informed the elder statesman of the Riggs family. “I keep myself busy even when I’m not active in wrestling. Movies, TV, sports, bought OCW. So even as I was recovering from heart surgery, I was still so damn busy and we never got around to it.”
“Life happens,” he says with an agreeable smile.
“This past New Years I proposed again, did you know that?”
“No,” he answers.
“We’re re-marrying this summer. The first half of our first year was pretty rocky and I just wanted to recommit myself to her,” I explained. “I was done whoring myself out to pretty smiles and tight bodies. I wanted to reaffirm my dedication to her as my wife, to her as a mother to my children.
“She deserved better than what I gave her that first six months,” I say with moist eyes.
“I’m really happy to hear that,” he says as he leans forward. “And I agree with you. She does.”
“Damon,” I say, again turning my head to him. “What if you walked her down the aisle?”
For a moment, he sits quietly and motionless. Soon, his lower lip trembles as he fights back emotion. “I know what she thinks of you,” I say to him. “She thinks very highly. To be honest I didn’t get it. I think I do now.”
“I’d be honored,” he answers quietly but with a big smile.
It’s a shame, really. It’s a shame all his dull ass talk won’t amount to much. It’s a shame he’s not putting the XWF Xtreme title on the line here because the only thing better at this point than knocking Goth out of the tournament would be to send him home entirely empty handed.
I’ll be honest.
I asked the XWF powers that be but I was denied. Probably had something to do with me putting a five million dollar bounty on the hair of Vinnie Lane, but I digress.
Congratulations Goth.
You get to walk into Mayhem as the Xtreme Champion. You get to walk out as the Xtreme Champion. I know, I know, it kinda violates that whole 24/7 rule but I guess I can relax a little. I guess I can allow you to leave with at least some of your dignity still intact.
I’m a damn hard man to beat, Goth. Even if I gave you all the answers you sought to the meaningless questions that don’t mean a damn thing to anyone but I guess apparently you, you’d still fail because I’m still that good and I’m still that difficult.
It’s certainly not impossible. But to be honest, it doesn’t seem all that probable when inside that ring and not on the mic is where the true battle of wits takes place. I hope you’re smarter in the ring than you are out of it because if you’re not, I really have no idea how you’ve made it this far in life and been as successful as you have been.
I still don’t understand how me doing my job within the allotted time frame equates to me supposedly hiding behind a rock but I guess that’s a puzzle without a solution. Speaking of puzzles, word is, Goth has been working on solving the same Rubik's Cube since 1987.
Guys don’t laugh. Those things can be tough.
That’s a metaphor that’s certainly better than a warm baguette.
I am a Rubik’s Cube. You can twist, turn, tug, pull, think and feel like you’re getting close to the solution. Then you flip it over and realize every move you just made screwed up what you thought you already solved.
Someone famous once said: just when you think you have the answers, I change the question.
I’ve made a career out of making idiots look even dumber than they already are. I’ve made a career out of making fools out of those that have underestimated me. I’ve made a career out of being a damn difficult puzzle to solve.
And I’m not…
Done…
Yet.
Goth… at long last.
Welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.
“What are you two talking about?” Lauren asks as she and Jenna entered.
“Nothin’,” I lied as I stood up.
“Just shootin’ the breeze,” he lied.
“Seems you two are getting along well,” Jenna chimes in.
“Yeah,” Damon says as I suddenly can’t pry my eyes from my wife.
“I think we cleared the air pretty well,” I admit as I pull Lauren into my lap. As she normally does, she curls up and lays her head against my chest. Kissing her lightly on her forehead, I begin to run my fingers through her long, platinum blonde hair. “I love you,” I whispered to her. She says nothing, but closes her eyes and smiles.
“T.J. and Caty are getting tired,” Lauren informed me. “Plus Frankie has school in the morning so we really need to get going.”
“Okay,” I agreed. She steps out of my lap and pulls me by my hand to my feet. I stand there looking into her eyes a moment, dragging my fingertips lightly over her hands. She smiles, I smile back.
“Alright,” Damon says, raising his voice an octave or two. “You two definitely need to go.”
Well, he clued in quick to the prelude.
Turning quickly toward him, I extend my hand. “Damon, we’ll have to do this again soon.”
“Agreed,” he states, accepting the gesture.
“You guys are welcome anytime,” Jenna chimes in as we all start for the doorway. Damon hangs back in the bar. Halfway down the hall toward the front door I stop and turn back.
“Forgot my phone,” I lied. It’s in my pocket. “Wrangle Frankie, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Re-entering the bar, Damon stands in what appears to be deep thought with his palms down against the bar surface.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold,” I say to him and he turns his head toward me. “That’s what you said when we were talking about…”
“Yeah,” he smiles slightly.
“So he’s still alive?”
“What if he is?” he asks while probably knowing the answer.
“Let’s serve it cold,” I suggested. To which he doesn’t respond.
“DAD! LET’S GO!” Frankie yells from down the hall.
“COMING!” I called back to him.
“What’d you have in mind?” he asks, again, I’m sure throughout the course of this night, he’s learned enough about me to know what I’m thinking.
“Nothing legal,” I reply with a callback from earlier and a slight smile. Saying nothing, he merely nods before I make my second exit.
I had gone into tonight, thinking the worst and feeling some type of way. As the night wore on, I let my guard down. He and his family may have once rooted for the failure of my marriage to Lauren, but it’s different now. Damon Riggs knows by now that I don’t give up that easily. Maybe Lauren had in her past. She doesn’t now. She knows as well as I do that while things were unorthodox for a time, this thing is worth fighting for.
We did it together. Lauren and I came out stronger because of what we put each other through early on. Damon learned that too.
For me, I learned that not only do I respect Damon Riggs, that I even like him. For the first time, I think that he may well have taken over the mentorship role that’s been missing from my life. I have a tendency to do some very brash things. Act first, ask later. Wherever I’ve been, wherever I’m going, he’s been there. While I don’t necessarily need a mentor, it never truly hurts to have one.
As long as I have been with Lauren, there was a Duke side of things and a Riggs side of things. I’m now willing to concede to there being a Duke-Riggs conglomerate. A melding of our respective families into one… giant… powerhouse.
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