Post by Thaddeus Duke on Aug 20, 2023 17:42:13 GMT -5
“Done crying, you puss?” Ismini asked.
Startled, I jumped away from Mufasa and landed on my ass in a pile of loose hay.
“Izzy!?” I cried out, then immediately hushed myself. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I followed you,” she answered quickly.
"Obviously," I replied more to myself than her.
“You killed one of them though,” she stated. “They’ll be looking for him before too long so what’s your plan?”
“Plan?” I questioned. “I don’t have one.”
Izzy sat beside me in the hay. One could be forgiven for thinking her insults were anything more than a joke. The whole time we were growing up, she always insulted me. And only me.
“Come up with something,” she said as she grabbed my hand in hers and laid her head on my shoulder. “Mom always told me Duke’s were more brawn than brains. But she loved your dad.”
“I’m so angry, Izzy,” I admitted to her. “It scares the hell out of me and all I want to do is burst through the door and kill every last one of them. He said things… about Caty.”
She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me.
“Terrible things… like last night,” I continued.
“These are not good people, T.J.,” she said as a matter-of-fact. “You can’t think of them like they are. They take what they want and most of what they want is control.
“Over me, you, your sister…”
“She was only fourteen,” I wept. “She was good, Izzy!”
“Storms are coming,” she said as she switched subjects. “You know that house better than anyone, Talon. Use that and the storms to your advantage.
“You know what you’re doing. Just do it.”
Mufasa curled up and laid on top of us as the three of us dozed off.
Merica… It’s unfortunate for you. This dude in a mask that until two months ago, no one’s ever heard of. To be honest, I’m almost envious. Sometimes when I reflect, I wonder what it would’ve been like to come into this business as an unknown, as a big question mark rather than the second generational talent that I am. I wondered if I’d have had the same success given that my last name is what got me in the door when I was 17 years old.
The answer is… resoundingly yes. Once upon a time, after a lengthy absence, I did wear a mask. I adopted a new name and covered up who I really was. I did it for several reasons but mostly, to see if the fans that loved me so much would grow to love me without knowing who I truly was. They did.
When you’re a generational talent, an x-factor, then it matters not what name you wear or what your face looks like. People like me, as rare as that is, become the biggest stars on the planet not because of some media machine, but because we’re just that good.
That’s not you, Merica. You lack something. A lot of things, actually. And you’ve been exposed time and again during the course of Triad to be nothing more than a run of the mill average joe talent. You’ll make a name for yourself some day. But it won’t be at Triad. It won’t be at my expense. Sometimes you got it, sometimes you don’t.
You just don’t.
The crack of thunder woke me up with Mufasa sleeping against my leg. Between he and Izzy, it felt good just to feel love again. Quietly, I lifted myself from the floor, gently laying Izzy against Mufasa. Needing to start the task at hand, I scouted the house from a distance. No sooner did I poke my head through the window, did a man come outside to the porch.
“Larry!?” he called out. Larry, I can only assume, is the man I killed a little bit ago. His body still rests beside the stable. “Larry, supper!”
The man stepped down from the porch. Lights in the house flickered as he started coming toward us. Ducking down so he didn’t see me, I could hear him coming closer as he continued to call for Larry.
“You in here?” he asked as he poked his head inside. Izzy and Mufasa didn’t hear him enter.
“What the…?” he began as he noticed Izzy.
Springing from the darkness I pounced on him, taking him to the ground. With my full body weight on him, I clapped my hand over his mouth and extended the dagger, holding it against his throat.
“I’m gonna move my hand,” I said to him quietly. “You’re not gonna scream, you understand me?”
He vigorously nodded his head.
“If you so much as raise your voice, I’m gonna stab you in the neck, then I’mma let Mufasa finish the job," I warned him. "Is that Understood?”
Again he nodded his agreement.
“My name is Talon Duke and I need you to tell me how many are in that house,” I demanded as I slid my hand down his face.
At first, he didn’t answer. Pressing the dagger against his throat, he whined like a pig.
“Answer me,” I demanded.
“I don’t know any Talon Duke,” he answered with fear evident. “There’s four people still inside.”
“There used to be about twenty, where are they?” I asked him.
“Called away to the front lines for active duty,” he answered quickly. “I just got here a few weeks ago.”
In the lightning flash, I only just noticed how young this man looked. “How old are you?” I asked.
“Fif-fifteen,” he answered.
“...d-d-d-don’t make m-m-m-myyy mistakes, T.J.,” my father intervened.
“What’s your name?” I asked the boy.
“Georgie,” he answered and I pressed the blade harder against his throat.
“Talon?” Izzy called out.
“What?” I asked coldly.
“He’s only been here a few weeks,” she reminded me. “He wouldn’t have had anything to do with Caty.”
“...ju-u-u-ust a kid, Talon,” my father chimed in.
“Kids can’t be horrible?” I asked.
“They’re impres-s-s-sionable,” dad said. “Don’t hur-r-r-rt him.”
I stayed there pinning Georgie to the dirt floor for a moment as I considered. My instinct was to kill him. I wanted to take all the hurt and anger and unleash it on him. But I remembered the story of Harold Jenkins. During my fathers last war, his enemies had taken his largest base. They killed any survivors and when my father made it over to Europe, he rained fire on them, obliterating them. In perhaps his coldest moment, he killed a surrendering enemy soldier point blank with his own gun. Having done that, tortured him. That’s what he was warning me against.
Leaning off the boy, I got back to my feet.
“You pissed on me,” I said as I looked down at him.
“I thought you were gonna kill me,” he argued as he stayed on his back.
Reaching down, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to his feet. “I’m goin’ in that house Georgie, and I’m gonna kill all your friends,” I said as I observed his reaction. He gave none.
“You’re gonna help me do it,” I said to him.
“How can I help…” he began but I pulled the pistol I took from Izzy’s attackers last night from my waistband and held the barrel against his head.
“Stay here,” I said to Izzy as I pushed Georgie from the stable. With one hand on his collar and the other on the gun, we made our way toward the house. The gun is empty, but no one knows that. The real weapon is a 450 pound angry lion who follows behind me.
The rain drops began to fall, and the thunder rolled in closer. The lights inside flickered more and more as we reached the porch. Peering through the windows of what once was our family room, I saw no one.
“Where are they?” I whispered into Georgie’s ear.
“Dining room,” he answered quietly with his hands out and up.
“Take us there,” I instructed.
Quietly we slipped inside the house. My heart pounded and raced. My breathing was labored as we stepped inside. My eyes wandered about, searching for signs of life. There were none as we continued through the house slowly. When we rounded a corner, I could hear voices, some laughter, and dinnerware clanging.
“You got this,” my father said as he walked behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “You won’t like it, but when you’re done, you’ll know it was a necessary evil.”
We rounded the corner near the doorway. They saw Georgie first.
“You find Larry?” asked one of the men before they saw me. Georgie didn’t answer, but Mufasa belted out a roar and pushed past both of us.
“Get the rifle!” shouted another as we stepped into the light.
“Don’t anyone move a muscle,” I said with this empty gun pressed against the back of Georgie’s head. “You do, I blow his brains all over your dinner.”
The four men in the room stopped in their tracks. Mufasa was angry. He knew his family and they were not his family. They were in his home and he didn’t want them here. He paced the dining room, his anger intensifying. Soon, he pounced on a chair and onto the table.
“I told you we should’ve killed the beast!” said one.
“You really should have,” I answered. “He’s free now and he’s kind of angry.”
It all happened so fast. At the same time, it was in slow motion. One of them got ballsy and reached for their gun. Mufasa pounced on him then ripped him to shreds. Another used the distraction to reach for his weapon, but I shoved Georgie into him, turned and pistol whipped another before sending my blade through another’s throat.
Two down, two to go.
The man pushed Georgie away and slammed me against the wall, but I threw my knee into his groin before sending my blade through his eyeball.
There’s three.
The last man grabbed me from behind, using a rifle pulled against my throat to trap me against the wall. We heard a click and both looked up to see Georgie raising a pistol, pointed in our direction.
“You pull that trigger, you’ll get us both!” the man said. Mufasa rises from the floor with his face covered in blood and bits of his victim hanging from his mouth. “Kill that stupid lion!”
“I don’t think I will,” Georgie said as he pulled the trigger…
POP!
Mister Knox… I need to preface what I'm about to say by saying that despite everything, I do respect you as a competitor. It pains me to have to do this, it pains me… to tell the truth about Matthew Knox.
See, I have been looking forward to this for such a long time and it only accelerated when he took exception to me calling myself a legend. It’s almost as if I knew what I was doing when I said it. It’s almost as if I… knew exactly who it would trigger and Matthew, you did not disappoint.
The man blows himself all over the timeline day in and day out, filling himself with such a false sense of accomplishment, a false sense of confidence that… someone owning being the legend that they are, triggers him.
I never bought his hype.
What started his triggering to begin with was me telling just a smidgen of truth about him. That he thirsts for gratification and validation.
You can't tell me I'm lying because you all know it's the truth.
It’s fitting, Matthew. It’s fitting that you took the name The Raven, because a raven is not a bird of prey and neither are you. You’re not looking for the next big challenge, all you want in your professional career is to pick at the bones of lesser men after they’re already dead. You’ve made your career out of belittling lesser men because they’re not better than they are. You beat them because you should. And when you’re done doin’ that, you hope and you pray that everyone will hold you up as some immortal, that they’ll sell the notion that you’re one of the all time greats.
Because…
You need…
That validation.
When this match was announced at the start of this thing I remember your tweet. I remember you marking out and you can mock and scoff at the notion that I am the Legend I say I am… but that tweet was a mask and I know it. That tweet covered your fear.
I’m not saying you’re afraid of Thaddeus Duke, the man. No one is. What you fear, is that unlike most in this business, I tell the truth. I don’t inflate my records, I don’t exaggerate my successes or downplay my failures. I’ve said for years that I was built different and a lot say that… but so seldom is it actually true. We’re in the same place at the same time and you’re learning exactly what everyone else has too. That I am exactly what I say I am and it hits so much harder.
Congratulations, Mr. Knox… on your Hall of Above Average career. At long last, my friend… welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.
Startled, I jumped away from Mufasa and landed on my ass in a pile of loose hay.
“Izzy!?” I cried out, then immediately hushed myself. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I followed you,” she answered quickly.
"Obviously," I replied more to myself than her.
“You killed one of them though,” she stated. “They’ll be looking for him before too long so what’s your plan?”
“Plan?” I questioned. “I don’t have one.”
Izzy sat beside me in the hay. One could be forgiven for thinking her insults were anything more than a joke. The whole time we were growing up, she always insulted me. And only me.
“Come up with something,” she said as she grabbed my hand in hers and laid her head on my shoulder. “Mom always told me Duke’s were more brawn than brains. But she loved your dad.”
“I’m so angry, Izzy,” I admitted to her. “It scares the hell out of me and all I want to do is burst through the door and kill every last one of them. He said things… about Caty.”
She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me.
“Terrible things… like last night,” I continued.
“These are not good people, T.J.,” she said as a matter-of-fact. “You can’t think of them like they are. They take what they want and most of what they want is control.
“Over me, you, your sister…”
“She was only fourteen,” I wept. “She was good, Izzy!”
“Storms are coming,” she said as she switched subjects. “You know that house better than anyone, Talon. Use that and the storms to your advantage.
“You know what you’re doing. Just do it.”
Mufasa curled up and laid on top of us as the three of us dozed off.
Merica… It’s unfortunate for you. This dude in a mask that until two months ago, no one’s ever heard of. To be honest, I’m almost envious. Sometimes when I reflect, I wonder what it would’ve been like to come into this business as an unknown, as a big question mark rather than the second generational talent that I am. I wondered if I’d have had the same success given that my last name is what got me in the door when I was 17 years old.
The answer is… resoundingly yes. Once upon a time, after a lengthy absence, I did wear a mask. I adopted a new name and covered up who I really was. I did it for several reasons but mostly, to see if the fans that loved me so much would grow to love me without knowing who I truly was. They did.
When you’re a generational talent, an x-factor, then it matters not what name you wear or what your face looks like. People like me, as rare as that is, become the biggest stars on the planet not because of some media machine, but because we’re just that good.
That’s not you, Merica. You lack something. A lot of things, actually. And you’ve been exposed time and again during the course of Triad to be nothing more than a run of the mill average joe talent. You’ll make a name for yourself some day. But it won’t be at Triad. It won’t be at my expense. Sometimes you got it, sometimes you don’t.
You just don’t.
The crack of thunder woke me up with Mufasa sleeping against my leg. Between he and Izzy, it felt good just to feel love again. Quietly, I lifted myself from the floor, gently laying Izzy against Mufasa. Needing to start the task at hand, I scouted the house from a distance. No sooner did I poke my head through the window, did a man come outside to the porch.
“Larry!?” he called out. Larry, I can only assume, is the man I killed a little bit ago. His body still rests beside the stable. “Larry, supper!”
The man stepped down from the porch. Lights in the house flickered as he started coming toward us. Ducking down so he didn’t see me, I could hear him coming closer as he continued to call for Larry.
“You in here?” he asked as he poked his head inside. Izzy and Mufasa didn’t hear him enter.
“What the…?” he began as he noticed Izzy.
Springing from the darkness I pounced on him, taking him to the ground. With my full body weight on him, I clapped my hand over his mouth and extended the dagger, holding it against his throat.
“I’m gonna move my hand,” I said to him quietly. “You’re not gonna scream, you understand me?”
He vigorously nodded his head.
“If you so much as raise your voice, I’m gonna stab you in the neck, then I’mma let Mufasa finish the job," I warned him. "Is that Understood?”
Again he nodded his agreement.
“My name is Talon Duke and I need you to tell me how many are in that house,” I demanded as I slid my hand down his face.
At first, he didn’t answer. Pressing the dagger against his throat, he whined like a pig.
“Answer me,” I demanded.
“I don’t know any Talon Duke,” he answered with fear evident. “There’s four people still inside.”
“There used to be about twenty, where are they?” I asked him.
“Called away to the front lines for active duty,” he answered quickly. “I just got here a few weeks ago.”
In the lightning flash, I only just noticed how young this man looked. “How old are you?” I asked.
“Fif-fifteen,” he answered.
“...d-d-d-don’t make m-m-m-myyy mistakes, T.J.,” my father intervened.
“What’s your name?” I asked the boy.
“Georgie,” he answered and I pressed the blade harder against his throat.
“Talon?” Izzy called out.
“What?” I asked coldly.
“He’s only been here a few weeks,” she reminded me. “He wouldn’t have had anything to do with Caty.”
“...ju-u-u-ust a kid, Talon,” my father chimed in.
“Kids can’t be horrible?” I asked.
“They’re impres-s-s-sionable,” dad said. “Don’t hur-r-r-rt him.”
I stayed there pinning Georgie to the dirt floor for a moment as I considered. My instinct was to kill him. I wanted to take all the hurt and anger and unleash it on him. But I remembered the story of Harold Jenkins. During my fathers last war, his enemies had taken his largest base. They killed any survivors and when my father made it over to Europe, he rained fire on them, obliterating them. In perhaps his coldest moment, he killed a surrendering enemy soldier point blank with his own gun. Having done that, tortured him. That’s what he was warning me against.
Leaning off the boy, I got back to my feet.
“You pissed on me,” I said as I looked down at him.
“I thought you were gonna kill me,” he argued as he stayed on his back.
Reaching down, I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him to his feet. “I’m goin’ in that house Georgie, and I’m gonna kill all your friends,” I said as I observed his reaction. He gave none.
“You’re gonna help me do it,” I said to him.
“How can I help…” he began but I pulled the pistol I took from Izzy’s attackers last night from my waistband and held the barrel against his head.
“Stay here,” I said to Izzy as I pushed Georgie from the stable. With one hand on his collar and the other on the gun, we made our way toward the house. The gun is empty, but no one knows that. The real weapon is a 450 pound angry lion who follows behind me.
The rain drops began to fall, and the thunder rolled in closer. The lights inside flickered more and more as we reached the porch. Peering through the windows of what once was our family room, I saw no one.
“Where are they?” I whispered into Georgie’s ear.
“Dining room,” he answered quietly with his hands out and up.
“Take us there,” I instructed.
Quietly we slipped inside the house. My heart pounded and raced. My breathing was labored as we stepped inside. My eyes wandered about, searching for signs of life. There were none as we continued through the house slowly. When we rounded a corner, I could hear voices, some laughter, and dinnerware clanging.
“You got this,” my father said as he walked behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “You won’t like it, but when you’re done, you’ll know it was a necessary evil.”
We rounded the corner near the doorway. They saw Georgie first.
“You find Larry?” asked one of the men before they saw me. Georgie didn’t answer, but Mufasa belted out a roar and pushed past both of us.
“Get the rifle!” shouted another as we stepped into the light.
“Don’t anyone move a muscle,” I said with this empty gun pressed against the back of Georgie’s head. “You do, I blow his brains all over your dinner.”
The four men in the room stopped in their tracks. Mufasa was angry. He knew his family and they were not his family. They were in his home and he didn’t want them here. He paced the dining room, his anger intensifying. Soon, he pounced on a chair and onto the table.
“I told you we should’ve killed the beast!” said one.
“You really should have,” I answered. “He’s free now and he’s kind of angry.”
It all happened so fast. At the same time, it was in slow motion. One of them got ballsy and reached for their gun. Mufasa pounced on him then ripped him to shreds. Another used the distraction to reach for his weapon, but I shoved Georgie into him, turned and pistol whipped another before sending my blade through another’s throat.
Two down, two to go.
The man pushed Georgie away and slammed me against the wall, but I threw my knee into his groin before sending my blade through his eyeball.
There’s three.
The last man grabbed me from behind, using a rifle pulled against my throat to trap me against the wall. We heard a click and both looked up to see Georgie raising a pistol, pointed in our direction.
“You pull that trigger, you’ll get us both!” the man said. Mufasa rises from the floor with his face covered in blood and bits of his victim hanging from his mouth. “Kill that stupid lion!”
“I don’t think I will,” Georgie said as he pulled the trigger…
POP!
Mister Knox… I need to preface what I'm about to say by saying that despite everything, I do respect you as a competitor. It pains me to have to do this, it pains me… to tell the truth about Matthew Knox.
See, I have been looking forward to this for such a long time and it only accelerated when he took exception to me calling myself a legend. It’s almost as if I knew what I was doing when I said it. It’s almost as if I… knew exactly who it would trigger and Matthew, you did not disappoint.
The man blows himself all over the timeline day in and day out, filling himself with such a false sense of accomplishment, a false sense of confidence that… someone owning being the legend that they are, triggers him.
I never bought his hype.
What started his triggering to begin with was me telling just a smidgen of truth about him. That he thirsts for gratification and validation.
You can't tell me I'm lying because you all know it's the truth.
It’s fitting, Matthew. It’s fitting that you took the name The Raven, because a raven is not a bird of prey and neither are you. You’re not looking for the next big challenge, all you want in your professional career is to pick at the bones of lesser men after they’re already dead. You’ve made your career out of belittling lesser men because they’re not better than they are. You beat them because you should. And when you’re done doin’ that, you hope and you pray that everyone will hold you up as some immortal, that they’ll sell the notion that you’re one of the all time greats.
Because…
You need…
That validation.
When this match was announced at the start of this thing I remember your tweet. I remember you marking out and you can mock and scoff at the notion that I am the Legend I say I am… but that tweet was a mask and I know it. That tweet covered your fear.
I’m not saying you’re afraid of Thaddeus Duke, the man. No one is. What you fear, is that unlike most in this business, I tell the truth. I don’t inflate my records, I don’t exaggerate my successes or downplay my failures. I’ve said for years that I was built different and a lot say that… but so seldom is it actually true. We’re in the same place at the same time and you’re learning exactly what everyone else has too. That I am exactly what I say I am and it hits so much harder.
Congratulations, Mr. Knox… on your Hall of Above Average career. At long last, my friend… welcome to the Thaddeus Duke Show.