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Sunday, May 18, 2014 – 8:58 PM EST – The Dungeon – Old Saybrook, Connecticut

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Caitlyn split just as she said she would. The moment Thaddeus' funeral came to an end she was gone with the wind. Sebastian retreated to the Dungeon and I felt the urge to follow him and stay by his side. I needed to stay by his side just in case. Just in case he may break his silence.

Before the funeral, he told me to stay. That told me that he wanted me nearby. Why? I'm not yet sure. He is really freaking me out in ways I can not describe. He's speaking, but not to me. More or less, he's kind of murmuring. Talking to himself in hushed tones. So hushed that, I can't really make heads nor tails of what he's saying.

What I do know, is that once he puts King George's face over his, he falls deadly silent. The Shane eye patch covering it's right eye hole. Like he becomes someone totally different. More accurately, something, totally different.

I said before that he's detached and he most certainly is. For hours now, he's just been sitting in his throne staring at the faceless skull of his sons killer while wearing the face. In nearly complete darkness.

All of this. All that has transpired over the last couple of days makes me fear for those within the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. Frodo Smackins and Gilmour Classic spend their time showing you their lives, much like everyone else. They spend their time trying to cut down the King of Darkness all the while, he does not respond to them. I fear that the only thing on his mind is the complete and catastrophic annihilation of anyone and everyone that gets in his way.

The King of Darkness is now a prisoner of his own heart. A prisoner of his own mind. A prisoner of his very soul. I see bad things coming Monday night. I see bad things coming in the future of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. I see Sebastian Duke running like a freight train, with nothing and no one able to stop him.

The man is a borderline psychotic mess. One I would not want to be on the wrong side of. Gilmour Classic and Frodo Smackins are sadly, for them, the first to stand in his way. I would not be at all surprised if one or both of them, are nearly, if not completely, beaten to death. In a normal setting, I fear the King of Darkness would now disregard the rules and take a disqualification by continuously beating the life out of his opponent. The thing is, Monday night, there are no rules. There will be no stopping him. There will be no official calling for the bell to stop the match. There will be no security to pull him from his opponents.

He will not be stopped.

The silence is cut by the vibration of his cell phone ringing. His head looks to the right, as does mine. Nazi. What could he want? I reach down and pick up the phone.


JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “This is really not a good time.”

NAZI: “Is it ever? What's he doing?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “Staring into the eyes of a tyrant.”

NAZI: “John's there!?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “No, Nathaniel, he's not. Look, he'll have to call you back.”


Without another word, I end the call. That's when Sebastian stands from his throne and heads upstairs. I follow him, wondering why he would go upstairs into the general population of the Compound wearing that hideous and grotesque face. To my surprise, at the top of the stairs he does not turn left into the Compound, he turns right, toward the garage.

Once inside the garage, Sebastian climbs into his old Chevy Blazer and fires the engine. I stand at the passenger side and look through the window. His one visible eye notices me and he unlocks the door. I step in and I force myself to ask the obvious question.


JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “Where are we going?”


He neglects to answer as he puts the old truck in gear. A few minutes later, we're on the quiet and desolate streets of downtown Old Saybrook. I don't think we're headed anywhere in particular. He seems to be making turns onto different streets that aren't really taking us anywhere. In fact, I know we went around the same block about three or four times.

It's not long until he spots something of interest and it instantly chills me to the bone. Up ahead, walking the sidewalk and carrying a duffel bag, is a young man. Sebastian slows the Blazer and kills the headlights. He follows him at a distance as to not cause the young man to get even a little scared.

We follow him for a few blocks on the dark street and watch the young man enter a nice suburban home. The home is completely dark except for one lone light in what I assume is a hallway. Sebastian does not drive off though. Instead, he pulls the Blazer into the driveway of the home and gets out.

I'm scared beyond belief right now, but there's no way that I would stop him. I'm his Messenger and his right hand man. I do his bidding, no matter what it is and no matter whether I agree with it or not.

He exits the Blazer and begins to walk toward the front door of the home. On instinct only, I grab his right wrist. He stops and turns his head slowly and looks at me with his one eye. I can't tell you how much that scares the shit out of me. I let go of his wrist and he proceeds to enter the house, quieter than a mouse.

Quietly, we make our way through the bottom floor of the house. Seconds later we hear the click of a doorknob directly beside us. The young man we followed emerges from a bathroom. His eyes open wide and is set to scream when Sebastian reaches up and clasps his mouth shut with his hand. He then pulls out a black hood and a roll of duct tape. He applies tape over the boys mouth then places the hood on his head. He tapes the hands of the boy behind his back and shoves the boy toward me.

Sebastian heads upstairs as I watch the young boy. He struggles against his makeshift restraints and his breathing intensifies. He's scared beyond belief and I can not blame him. Through the hood, I can see him moving his head around in an attempt to knock off the hood, but it's all for naught.

I hear crashing upstairs and moments later, he begins to descend the stairs with two hooded and presumably unconscious adults. One male, one female. It's safe to assume they're the boys parents.

After just a couple of minutes, all three of them are loaded into the back of the Blazer and handcuffed together. Sebastian and I both enter the truck and he drives quickly back home to the Compound. By the time we get there, the parents of the boy have regained consciousness. They're brought out of the Blazer, still cuffed together, then ushered toward the Dungeon. Once we make it into the room, they're separated, but still hooded.

Sebastian places two wooden chairs side by side between his throne and the table that features the King's faceless head, facing the left side wall. He then sets up a third chair near the other end of the table facing the other two.

He starts with the boy. He sits him down and shackles him to the floor with leg irons. Then the father, and the mother. They sit side by side, across from their son. After lighting two torches on each wall, Sebastian sits in his throne looking back and forth between the boy and his parents before looking at me and pointing to the boy. Slowly I make my way over, unsure of what I'm supposed to do. Once I make it over, I realize he's been planning this. Hanging off the chair is a gag and for some reason, I know exactly what I'm supposed to do.

I remove the hood and rip off the tape before replacing it with the gag. I look at Sebastian and he's staring at the parents. I make my way over and remove their hoods. Both have fear in their eyes. No gags on these chairs. Obviously, he wants them to speak. I remove the tape from their mouths before retreating into the darkness.

Sebastian stares at the parents. The mother crying and the father just staring back, unsure of what exactly he is staring at.


FATHER: “Jesse! It's gonna be alright! Just stay calm!”


It is now, that he breaks his silence. In hushed tones, he speaks.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Recently, I was given a gift.”

FATHER: “Why are you doing this!?”


He continues on, ignoring the fathers question.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I was given the gift of watching my son get murdered right in front of me.”


Why the hell is he calling it a gift?


FATHER: “Mister Whoever, please, just let us go. I'm sorry you had to see that...”


While the man is talking, Sebastian steps down from his throne, then cuts the man off by slamming his hands down on the arms of the mans chair and stares into his eyes wearing that face mask.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WATCH YOUR SON LOSE HIS LIFE WHILE YOU'RE POWERLESS TO STOP IT!?”

FATHER: “N-N-No sir.”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “Well, you will now.”

MOTHER: “NO NO! PLEASE NO!”


He looks at her, then spits on her through the King's mouth.


SEBASTIAN DUKE: “I was given that gift and it is my duty to deliver that gift to you folks right now. Your son will die, because my son died. You will watch it happen, because I watched it happen. You will live through this experience just as I have.”


The woman continues to beg and plead but Sebastian ignores her. I feel like I'm frozen, unable to move, unable to stop him and to be completely honest, I'm not sure I would stop him.

He nears the young man who is crying out of fear. With a squeeze of his right wrist, the dagger is ejected from his arm. He presses the blade against the cheek of the young man.


MOTHER: “Stop! Please stop! He's only 16!”

SEBASTIAN DUKE: “My son was only 15.”


As he concludes his retort, he drives the dagger into the young mans chest, piercing his heart. The parents look on in shock and horror as they watch their son breathe his last breaths. They both cry out in anguish at the sight before them.

He stares at the parents. He watches their horror. He watches their anguish until their son finally succumbs to the grip of death. Without so much as a warning, he slits the throat of the mother. The man yells out, but not for long. Sebastian stands over the man and grabs him by the hair before repeatedly driving his dagger into the eye sockets of the man.

After a few moments, he returns to his throne and reflects on what he's done. Three innocent people from Old Saybrook felt his wrath tonight. I fear there is more to come.

After about fifteen minutes of blood and other bodily fluids draining on to the floor, he finally stands from his throne. Slowly, he makes his way to the corner near the door. He bends down to retrieve something, then heads upstairs. It took me a few minutes to realize what he had in his hands.

His 24/7 briefcase.

Fade to Darkness.