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Thaddeus Duke · (12-12-2020)

Before I begin to verbally dissect you and tear you to pieces for being exactly what and who you are… I need to ask you Chris, I need to ask you if touching that wall the way you have, if pushing that envelope the way you have is really the way you want to play this with me? You KNOW what I’m talking about. Don’t act stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t take that route you want to take because it will not end well for you. Most of the company already hates your fucking guts, Chris… Those that don’t, just don’t know you the way the rest of us do… yet. I’m sure they’ll get there.

Now I’d sit here and refer to you as Chris Page since you’re practically taking his promos where he talks about me and just reworded it so it sounds original… but that’d be a disservice to Chris Page and not even I hate Chris Page enough to disrespect him by referring to you with his name.

Have you ever had an original thought? Have you ever had one creative idea that wasn’t already done on television? In movies? Hell, even in the XWF?

I’m not about to sit here and cut a promo on Chris Page. Do something else. Have a real fucking idea for once in your god damn life you waste of absolute fucking space.

Should we just start calling you Mimic? Since you’re so good at stealing others ideas and the work they’ve put into them, how ‘bout you just drop the Chaos shit right in the trash where it, and you, both belong and call yourself Mimic. Make it your new ‘thing’ to blatantly ripoff everyone else since that’s all you fucking do anyway. You were ripping off the Joker and that didn’t work. You were ripping off Robert Main and that didn’t work… Now you’ve gone and fixated yourself on Chris Page, his promos, his life, and you’ve adopted… yeah I got tired of saying ripping off... it all to Chris Chaos. In case you hadn’t noticed… Chris Page’s promos didn’t exactly rattle my cage or throw me off my game. Cataclysm fell at my hands, Chaos. Talk all the shit you want about the kiss at Relentless, I really don’t give a fuck. I did what I did, he did what he did, it’s ancient fucking history and has literally zero relevance to you and me. None. Zero. Fucking squat.

Routing Relentless weekend made me an afterthought? I beat the shit out of Mastermind because in my mind it was you? Bitch please. Here’s the facts: that little pint sized fucker got involved in one too many of my matches and I let him know that I didn’t like it. He took his beating like a fucking man. He owned his loss to me like a fucking man. Whatever Mastermind is or isn’t, he has respect of those within the XWF.

You Chris? Not a man or woman on this roster has an ounce of respect for you.

I was such an afterthought after Relentless that I was named Star of the Month… by routing Relentless on a sprained ACL… by beating your bitch ass twice just because I fucking can.

“But I wasn’t 100% and I didn’t even have an incentive to face you!”

Okay that’s fair, but now look at the facts. You accepted that match, you accepted that challenge so I kinda think that not looking like a total tool bag on pay per view should have been incentive enough. More facts… I wasn’t anywhere close to 100% you dumb fuck. I went 50 minutes with Page, sprained my ACL, you can say what you want about Mastermind but it was inside the House of Horrors, which, since you weren’t involved in it and didn’t want to rip off that idea so you couldn’t be bothered to look and see how brutal a match it can be…

Then I beat you.

On the sprained ACL.

So take your lazy good for nothing but losing to me excuse making ass and shut the fuck up. Take your L like a man.

Chris…

I’ll concede one point to you… I really am a bad guy… I really am a shit person… to you. I say mean things to you because I like it. I treat you like the dog shit you are because you deserve every bit of it… and because I like it. I beat you like a pimp beats a hooker because I enjoy it. I remind you of your place in the pecking order around here because I enjoy it. I crack my jokes and make my twitter remarks about you… because I enjoy it. I emasculate you every time you turn around Chris, because I fucking enjoy it. I remind you that you are a joke and the entire roster laughs at your ineptitude… because I like it. I humiliate you every time you turn around because it makes me fucking happy to do it. I remind you that you are nothing, that you have always been nothing, that you will always be nothing… simply because… I like it.

You are a piece of shit human being despite your delusional monologue to the contrary and there’s no redeemable quality that you possess. Not a single fucking one… and everyone that matters, fucking knows it.

But you have to hurt me to help me right? This was all your master plan that wasn’t at all stolen from Chris Page’s promos? To make me so angry that I somehow refocus myself and beat the entire fucking roster in one night winning two different championships and it’s all because of you? I beat the universe and you’re seriously gonna sit there and tell the world that you take credit for that?

Laugh.

My.

Fucking.

Ass.

Off.

Bitch you can’t even be serious. You’re seriously gonna sit there and expect people to believe that you had some big plan… to lose to me a hundred times, just to rip off my arch-rival in an effort to ‘one up’ me as we head toward your next humiliating defeat at my hands on Warfare?

Honestly, every time I think you can’t possibly get any fucking dumber, you prove me wrong. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again, you just keep lowering my expectations of you. Then you just keep getting fucking lower. You are the measuring stick for suck, Chris. That’s it. Nothing more.

For eight years, Chaos, the name Duke has been synonymous with the real measuring stick. The real benchmark. The real gold standard for excellence. If you can beat a Duke, you can beat anyone. You can’t beat me Chris. Hell, you can hardly beat anyone at all these days. You’ve tried and failed numerous times since our very first meeting when I was a rookie still figuring out the game. You got me then, didn’t you? Since you’re so suddenly into invalidating victories, did you pin me? Did you tap me out? Nah man, you cut me open in a first blood match. Since that time though… I’ve beat you like the over hyped, underwhelming sack of horse shit you’ve always been. I’ve had you figured out since the end of our first fucking match and gave away the blueprint.

It’s admittedly a pretty simple blueprint. Because nothing ever changes. You’ve been the exact same self important cunt you’ve always been. You’re the same basic white bread bitch you’ve always been.

“I don’t change because I don’t need to change.”

It’s called evolution dipshit. If you don’t evolve, you don’t get better. If you don’t get better, you become Chris Chaos.

The fans don’t come to see you in the ring. They go to the god damn pisser whenever you’re on. You haven’t done anything of real fucking value in years Chris and you think those people give a fuck about some failed one and done piece of shit with an over inflated ego? Your early success has filled your ego to the point where you still, all these years later, still… think you fucking matter. If you mattered, they wouldn’t have been trying to bump you from the High Stakes main event.

Oh by the way… You said Lacklan was the face of the company? And you hurt her to help her? That she didn’t know the lengths you would stoop to to take the Universal title from her so you took her out? You self centered narcissistic extremely fucking blind idiot… did you not see it on the monitor? Did you not hear it in the arena?

Lane fired her and vacated the title before you even stepped foot in the ring. She doesn’t work here so so much for her being the chosen one. You fucked her all up Chris, yeah great job… she was already unemployed.

Fuck it. Rewind the tape, show it again.

’Chaos’s Daddy’ Said:Honestly, every time I think you can’t possibly get any fucking dumber, you prove me wrong. Repeatedly. Over and over and over again, you just keep lowering my expectations of you. Then you just keep getting fucking lower. You are the measuring stick for suck, Chris. That’s it. Nothing more.

Annnnnd we’re back.

So from here we move on to projecting. Accusing the other side of which you are guilty.

Example one: “You sit on a pile of mediocrity and mask it with arrogance.”

Actually, I sit on a mountain of greatness and beat the entire roster in order to do it. Oh gee wiz, Doc grabbed my foot so I cheated to win. Physics and logic aren’t your strong suit, obviously, just like originality, respect for the game, integrity… any good quality, really. Even if Doc hadn’t grabbed my foot and all four of us went out at the same time, my feet still would have touched last. I’m arrogant sure, I’ll give you that. But when you can back it up… is it arrogance? Or is it the Mt. Everest of self confidence and you just hate the fact that I can back up that confidence, that I can back up that arrogance while you… exude an arrogance that hasn’t been warranted in three years and even then it was debatable.

Example two: “All it is is a cry for attention. You’ve never been what I am...”

I get more attention than I need bro. Despite your wishes for the opposite to be true man… I’m selling out stadiums and arenas and I’m about to put a hundred thousand people into Lambeau Field at Snow Job. Whether you want it to be true or not, the fans love me and can’t get enough of me. Bitch you’re right though. I’ve never been what you are and what you are is a piss poor knock off on someone else’s creation.

Like me, love me or hate me… I’m Thaddeus Duke. I’ve always been. I’ve never pretended I was anything but.

You’re taking this whole gas-lighting game and taking it to a whole new level of transparent. You wanna know why you get shots at the Universal title? Because everyone loves to watch you shit the fucking bed and you never let ‘em down, do you Chris? It has nothing to do with your relevance because your relevance to this industry died a long time ago. You’re only relevant depending on the opponent you’re matched up with because you’re not good enough to get relevant and stay relevant on your own and you never fucking were.

My matches are only big because I tell myself they are? First of all, I only label my matches big when they are big. This ain’t big. It is for you. It’s real big. This match to me Chris, my love for humiliating you and making you feel like less of a man notwithstanding… this match to me, is nothing more than the obligatory celebratory defense for the new champion.

Me.

Just in case you try to project yourself as the current reigning defending Universal Champion.

You couldn’t beat me, you couldn’t beat Cataclysm and you haven’t been able to really sniff the Universal title in years. I can beat you, I do it often… Often enough that a guy that’s only been here a few months listed you as Thaddeus Duke’s personal fucking jobber… and I did beat Cataclysm…

He holds up the Universal title.

And I’m close enough to the Universal title to make love to it anytime I want… I mean I’m not gonna, but I could. Keep projecting your suckery onto me Chris… I can do this all god damn day, every day. I’ve literally never heard anyone brag up the fact that they lose a half dozen Universal title matches and claim that that’s somehow a good thing… All it means is you ain’t got it and what’s worse is you never really did.

I’m nothing but another Peter Gilmour or Mastermind… what you really meant to say is I’m nothing but a Chris Chaos. It isn’t remotely grounded in fact, merely more projection but here we are.

Let me play devils advocate… Let’s just assume that you’re smart enough to outsmart me, smart enough to concoct some master plan to manipulate things in such a way that I win the Universal title while crushing your soul for years only for you to finally hit the switch and turn it on right when I win the title. Let’s just say all of that’s true because you’re likely going to bring up Chris Page’s… shit sorry… Chris Chaos’s master plan for the next two weeks…

What is it exactly, that you’re going to fall back on, how are you going to spin it now when the bell rings after you’ve said ‘I Quit’ and I prove to you yet again what the rest of the world already knows to be true?

That I’m better than you.

I always have been.

I will be on Warfare.

I always will be… better than you.

“GI Joe meets Battlestar Galactica fanfiction that no one reads…”

How creative of you, Chris. How insightful for you to call your opponents life… fiction. Is that what we do now? Discredit people’s lives outside of the wrestling world? Yep you’re right Chris. It’s all Hollywood. The planes are real but the battles are all CGI and I’ve never fired a gun at another human. I never sat the throne of Saint Peter, never bombed the shit out of Poland, never went to war in Italy… all a Hollywood script that I release online at XWF99.com for my opponents to… read…

That right there… is why you’re never taken seriously. That right there is part of what makes you the joke, the mockery of this business we’re in. You have nothing of merit to say, nothing real to profess so instead you stoop to such low levels of stupidity and I’d replay my earlier statement yet again but that point was driven out of the park long ago. You got nothing, you know you have nothing so you resort to gas-lighting, projecting, pretending you’re something you’re not while trying and failing miserably to paint me as the fraud that you actually are.

You really aren’t cut out for this line of work. Maybe elsewhere, but not here. Not the XWF.

That’s why I protest. That’s why I yell at anyone who will listen that you don’t deserve to have shots at any title, much less the one I fucking earned by beating 18 other men and women. You mock this industry. You mock this roster. You mock this company. Not in a humorous way. Not in a cool way. But because you absolutely suck the life out of everything and you’re not at all interesting. Not at all entertaining. No one cares about you. No one.

While it may be true that at one time or another my relationship with this company and those that run it was contentious at best and fractured at its worst, there’s a reason I keep coming back.

Love.

The XWF is in my blood. I live it, I breathe it, I bleed for it. No one has ever doubted that. So when I’m blowing the horn and sounding the warning sirens because you’re getting shots you refuse to earn, it isn’t jealousy. It's a desire to protect the place I love, from generic ripoffs like you. A love for the place I call my home. A desire to see that those on this roster who earn their way, get their shots.

Not people like you.

So when I say that knowing you were on the other side of High Stakes, in a roundabout way you’re right, you had something to do with me winning. Just not the way you’re trying to project. I entered that battle royal because I know with absolute certainty that you can not beat me and you have no idea how to beat me. That’s the only way to be entirely certain that you didn’t end up somehow lucking into a second title reign.

Not on my watch.

Not with me here.

You’ll never touch this title again. Just quit and go home Chris, you truly aren’t wanted here. You add nothing of value to this company and you never have. You’re the only one that hasn’t figured that out yet.

[Image: AgOOEtB.gif]

Four Seasons Resort at Wailea || The Island of Maui || 10:57 PM

”It’s getting cold,” Liz says, curled up next to me on the beach as we quietly watch the waves roll up onto the shore. After High Stakes, I took Liz and Frankie to Maui for a little vacation.

”Go inside,” I advise her with a kiss on the side of her head. ”I’ll be in soon.”

”What’s bothering you?” she asks as she lifts her head from my shoulder.

You can’t have it all. Maybe someone can, but not me. I made peace with that fact a long time ago. Quite honestly, I have everything anyone could want. I have a bank account with more zero’s than I’ll ever use in my lifetime… or Frankie’s… or his children for that matter. I’m a good looking guy with great hair. I’m athletic beyond belief. My wrestling career has obviously never been any better than it is now. I’ll be filming again soon in my part time status as an actor. I have friends and family that love me. I have a foster son that I love more than anything. I have this absolutely gorgeous, amazing woman in my life that adores me and of course, the feeling is more than mutual. Even her family loves me, though we don’t get to see them much.

”Nothing,” I answer her, a bit less than honestly.

Fact is, just before we left home for Arizona, I messed up. Big time. Messed up in a way I never thought I could or at the very least ever thought I would. I cheated on Elizabeth and its fucking killing me. I haven’t even told her yet. If I had… we probably wouldn’t be in Maui. She wouldn’t have gone to Arizona. I’d probably have went to High Stakes with a broken nose or something. She’s a tough woman and can pack one hell of a punch. Anyway it’s eating me alive.

”You’re bad at lying you know?”

”How was Frankie?” I ask, obviously trying to change the subject.

”He was fine, he was playing games online against Jim and cussing up a storm though,” she says with a playful punch to my shoulder. ”Wonder where he got that from...”

”Someone terrible probably,” I joke.

”You do need to curb his language though, baby,” she says, again returning her head to my shoulder.

My phone vibrates from within my pocket. Once I retrieve it, I peep the text:

’Jimmy Jam’ Said:That shit beat me then said he was gonna
go to England and fuck my mum to celebrate! What the hell did you do
to him!?

’I’ Said:
LMAO! Serves u right for being a narc

”Let’s go inside,” she says with a raised eyebrow as I put my phone away. ”We can warm each other up,” she hints with a smile as she pulls me down on my back in the sand and loves on me.

Why?

Why did I do it?

”Not tonight,” I say feigning exasperation. ”I have a headache.”

At once she leans off of me.

”Oh it’s like that?” she asks causing me to laugh a bit.

”You want to put Frankie to bed? I’ll be in soon.”

She gets to her feet in a hurry.

”Why do I always gotta be the mom?” she asks as she walks away, pretending to be mad.

”Because you’re good at it,” I call after her.

”I know...” her voice trails off in the distance.

I’m not a perfect person. I have not once claimed I was. Now alone with my thoughts and personal agonies, I stare off toward the darkened sea. My guilt creeps up on me like the waves as they roll ever closer to my feet. How the hell do I tell her what I did? How do I explain to her why I did it when I don’t even know why I did it? Why did I risk everything that matters to me just to spend time with Garrett in a way I shouldn’t have?

Having had enough of the beach, the sand and the waves, I stand up and head inside the hotel. Making my way through the lobby toward the elevators I happen to look inside the bar and there’s around a dozen or so others inside.

Maybe I’ll have a drink.

…

That drink turned into several. Which turned into numerous awkward conversations with some people that know who I am while others were entirely oblivious. Which turned into me autographing a baby… yes, an actual baby. Like two months old or something. That turned into this drunk dude sitting next to me at this very moment.

”You know... you’re alright,” he says through slurred speech as he takes a sip of his beer, half of which runs down his chin.

”Thanks I guess,” I say as my phone vibrates.

”No… I mean it man...” he continues as I pull out my phone. ”My kid likes you… but I thought you were a fake...”

’G Man’ Said:I miss you

Not replying, I replace my phone in my pocket.

”Hey… hey… Thad… you think we... could get a pic?” he asks of me. ”My kid will be so jealous, man.” The ‘man’ was elongated.

”Yeah, sure,” I say before honoring the request.

”There you are,” Liz says as she approaches me. ”Baby come up to bed.”

”Holy fuck,” this random guy interrupts. ”She yours?”

”I’ll be up soon,” I tell her while ignoring the babbling idiot on my right.

”You said that two hours ago,” she reminds me.

”You gotta be... hung to your knees... to score that piece of ass.”

”Dude really?”

”Hi,” Liz says, stepping between me and drunk idiot. ”Liz Henry, pleased to meet you,” she says to him, holding out her hand with a sarcastic look upon her face. He shakes her hand with hesitation. ”We’re just gonna talk okay?

“And he is,” she whispers to him before returning her attention to me.

”I’m just gonna finish this beer and I’ll be up, promise.”

”Baby, what’s wrong?” she asks as she lays her head on my shoulder.

”I just got some things on my mind is all.”

”Like what?” she asks. ”You should be on top of the world right now, Baby, not all up in your emotions.”

”If you were my woman… I’d go upstairs with you.”

”If I was your woman, I’d be fine going upstairs by myself, but thanks.”

”Shit.”

”Can we not do this here?” I plead with her.

”Do what here?” she asks perplexed. ”Thaddeus what did you do?”

Shit, here we go.

I try to brush off the question and turn a little to my left. She comes back around to my left to meet my gaze.

”What did you do?” the drunk dude asks.

”There isn’t anything you wouldn’t tell me, because you know there isn’t anything you couldn’t tell me.

“Except there is… isn’t there?”

”Liz please,” I plead.

”WHAT… did you do Thad?”

I sit quietly and take a swig.

”Garrett?”

I swallow hard, then nod.

”Un-fuckin-believable.”

”No really… this is like…”

”Stop,” I tell him.

”You did it, didn’t you?”

Yup.

I nod again. She sighs and turns to her right, away from me some.

”When?”

”The night before Arizona,” I answer.

I never saw it coming, but maybe I should have. She throws a right cross and it connects with the left side of my chin just as I’m taking another swig. My beer spills all over me as I unwillingly leave the bar stool. On my way down, in an effort to catch myself I grab on to the drunk guys arm and he comes to the floor right along with me.

”Fuck,” drunk dude says as he lies next to me on the bar floor.

”That’s right girl!” shouts a woman from across the bar. ”You don’t need no man!”

I lift my head to see Liz walking out of the bar and lay my head back down a moment.

”I just… bought that beer.”

Bringing my left hand up to rub my chin where she punched me, its already a little puffy. It’ll bruise by tomorrow. I really fucked this thing up and I have no idea how I’m going to fix it or if its even possible that I can. What I know is, that no matter how this shakes out, I deserve it.

”So um… you want another beer?” he asks as we still lie on the floor.

”How ‘bout some Bourbon?” I suggest.

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