It's obvious from first glance that this place where everyone is now
privy to see, has not been touched by modern civilization, and will
likely remain so for thousands of years.
Man has touched this landscape yet it was the legions of Rome who were
the last to do so. Stone lays scattered about the ground,
reminiscent reminders of the power that once was of Rome.
It is evening, yet not quite night. The air bites, the wind is
restless, the stars are clouded by the mist drifting on the grass swept
highlands of Scotland. We are here for a reason, and it becomes
quite apparent as three voices, all distinct, call out of the shrouded
landscape.
"Generosus...aristocracy."
"Nous...intelligence."
"Romen romanorum...Roman power."
All three voices merge to be one voice, one word, one mind: "Doxa...glory."
The scene pans back to find the originators of those voices. One
dons black leather boots, obviously showing the wear and erosion of
time, blue jeans too showing strain and the blood spills of battles
fought past, and a black track sweater, its hood partially covering his
goatee laden face.
One wears dark cargo pants, he too wearing a track sweater with hood,
obscuring his scar-ridden face.
The final figure stands in a long black cloak, clipped with a large
silver chain and coat-of-arms near his shoulder, his long blond hair
draping near his shoulders as well, and long black pants and high
black boots, with three metal clips securing them firmly.
They are the Triumvirate, a few of the last remnants of the Central
States Wrestling Alliance. Their combined résumé is
impressive, each man having touched the stratosphere in previous
federations, and hell bent on doing so now in the BWWa. While
championships are but one goal, the spilling of blood, the breaking of
bones, the complete and utter domination of the BWWa and indeed, the
CAL, are paramount...and inevitable.
Finnegan and Kushner sit on the ground whilst Lancaster stands, his
cloak waving slowly in the wind. Each man looks to be in deep
thought.
"How does it feel, Estral,
Unknown, knowing what you are about to
face? But more than likely...you do not know what you are about
to face." Lancaster shrugs. "All the better, for ignorance
becomes many in this world, and allows victory to be grasped by those
who will hold nothing back in the pursuit of knowledge...in the
pursuit, of destruction."
Seamus and Kushner nod unemotionally, as the wind picks up ever so
slightly.
"We stand tonight amongst
ruins,
those here in Hardknott, in Scotland,
erected countless centuries ago by the greatest power the world had
ever seen: Rome. Some may question why we are amongst ruins right
before our debut battle in Pagliano's BWWa...perhaps it is an omen of
our match to come. But we take something different from these
stones," Lancaster gestures down to them. "They represent the
power that once was, the glory of Rome that stretched across the known
world, and we shall be as masons, and rebuild the Triumvirate, stone by
stone, so that the fortress that once stood in the North American
Wrestling Alliance, the World Wrestling Alliance...shall stand again,
and shall not yield, to any force, known, or unknown, at all odds, now,
tomorrow, and forever."
A slight smile crosses the English aristocrat's lips.
"We shall find renewed
inspiration from the very men we take our name
from. Caesar, Crassus, Pompey, met and agreed to rule the Empire
together. And so shall we in the CAL. When we depose the
World Champions and the Champions in the BWWa, we shall, when sceptred
and enthroned, roam to the IWA, TIW, and yes, the NPW, and spread our
word, and gain followers where we will...and crush all others who dare
not kneel. We shall make legions of our hands and feet, and we
shall know no mercy. Prepare thyselves."
Seamus glanced down at the ground, staring silently, before beginning
to speak, in a low, eerie hushed tone...
"Estral...Unknown...I hope ye've
done yer homework...I hope ye've had
the chance to study an'know yer history well, because if history is
anything to go on, then the two o'ye bastards...the two o'ye don't even
stand the slightest chance o'survival. Ye see, yer lookin' at three
o'the most dominant men this sport has ever known..."
A sly smile crosses the Irish Assassin...it does not bode well.
"Robert Lancaster II...the Duke
o'Wessex, the fightin' aristocrat, a
man who's held more titles on his own than the two o'ye combined...Jeff
Kushner, one o'the toughest bastards to ever step foot in the ring,
an'if ye don't believe me, well...(lifting his hood off his head) ah've
got the god*bleep*ed scars to prove it!"
"An' then there's me...what about
me, yer askin' yerselves? What about
Seamus Finnegan? Well let me tell ye a wee bit about myself, shall I?
Ah've been in this business for seventeen years...seventeen years
o'broken bones, spilled blood, frequent trips to the ER...an' ah'm
STILL STANDING!!! Ye see, Estral...Unknown...ye need to know what
yer lettin' yerselves in for...ye need to know just what hell awaits ye
when ye step up to face the Whiskey Devils, because if ye don't
know...if yer not aware...if yer not prepared...ye'll just be two more
names added to the list o'careers that have been shortened at the
hands...o'the TRIUMVIRATE..."
Jeff knelt before the stone wall, glaring at the rocks, smelling
the aged air all around him. He stood again, and turned...the
wind caught his hood slightly, and revealed the cut across his
left cheek...another bisecting his right eyebrow...and a
series of smaller ones down his chin to his neck. These were the
war wounds of a warrior's battles.
The remnants of the match that permanently left it's mark...the
Crystal Cell. He still remembers the feeling of having that
glass crash across his face...the feeling of diving into a mass of
shattered glass and body parts...the feeling of sheer
agony.
"Soon we make our return... the
Triumvirate as it was always meant to be. Years ago when we
each first started out, our paths were set in stone... we
tried each to stray from this path... hoping to push beyond the
expected results of our lives. What we never realized
though...was that it was inevitable that we would follow this. But now,
we embrace this fact...as the journey of our lives have brought
this shattered whole back together. Like the glass of the cell
that tore apart my face last year, we the Triumvirate were once a
separated whole. We were once divided beyond repair. No
longer...we have reunited under a common flag...and we are better and
stronger than ever in the past. We have each taken so much from our
pasts and will use it to define our futures. I have come back
home to the Triumvirate...finally..."
"Make no mistake... I was part not
that long ago, of a group of men who proudly stood by each
other... who brought each other up from the depths of their
souls. They helped ease my pain after the suicide of my wife.
They helped watch my back when those who would tear me down
came after me. As much as I appreciated it, there were two
parts missing of my whole... and now they stand with me
again. In the past few years, I have fallen so far...I have
crashed into the ground with all the strength I once climbed
with. But now I am the Phoenix, rising from the ashes to
fly again. And I, every time I step into the ring, will make each
and every person I fight know my pain, know my
happiness...know me. They will learn what I am about... they will
respect me...and then they will be defeated."
"All of you in the BWWa with few
exceptions, know the final truth about me. But soon you will all
know it well...You may pin my shoulders, but you will never
defeat me... I will never back down. I will stand up at the gates
of hell and send you all through if I must. If for one second,
any of you ever believe I am to be taken for granted... If for one
second any of you believe that because I'm not big enough... not
strong enough.... not experienced enough to beat you... then
you've already lost. For I am not someone to be taken for
granted, or underestimated. There are many examples of that
fact...and if you wish to have one...I can arrange a
demonstration."
"Be prepared for the battle of
your lives... the Triumvirate has returned... the Irish
Assassin stands at your doorstep again...one of the finest and
most intelligent grapplers of all time has come back to haunt you
all...and I, the Phoenix, has risen again. Breakfast well
to you all... for soon we shall dine together in hell."
"We have dominated before...we
shall dominate once
again. We've reigned as champions before...an' we WILL
REIGN AS CHAMPIONS AGAIN. It begins wi'Estral an'
Unknown...where it'll end, well...IT ENDS WHEN WE SAY
IT ENDS."
"The carrion are circling, and
they are centering in on you both, and we shall give them a feast to
fill their ravenous gullets. At Silver...blood will beget blood,
and our cups shall overfloweth. You, Estral, and Unknown, shall
be the first to be martyred to the Triumvirate. Pray for your
souls, and your bodies, for we shall take both, and leave Hades to deal
with whatever may remain."
Lancaster's eyes narrow coldly.
"Now...tremble."
