Lancaster's Inferno - Malboge (Circle VIII - the Seducers)

Scene I: Lincoln, NE - home of the Lancaster's - Monday, April 28, 2003

Finally that day had come where I was allowed to return home.  Nearly a month after the rift between my wife and myself and been created, I had returned, to see the only thing that mattered in my life now, namely my son.

Stephanie, the bitch that she is, only gave me permission a day ago to come see Eddie, after I made broad incinuations on the messages I left on her phone that lawsuits and legal action would be taken if she wouldn't grant me access.

Steph understood the language of power, and knew I was ruthless.  

I revel in my ruthlessness when it comes to getting what I want.

Other men think they have power.  Power in the ring, of physical prowess, whatever.  Whether it be Adam-X, Ripper Longshanks, Loki, or whomever Seamus and I would face next, be it Flare and Thunder or SeX.  But I have power - real power.

I smirked as I recalled Shelley's immortal poem:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!!"

As I exited my car that I parked on our drive, I caught a glimpse of the CAL World Tag Team Championship that lay in my bag.

"Look on my works you assholes," I thought.  "The best is yet to come."

I strove to the door and found a key under the doormat, as Steph instructed.  She left a message saying that she'd be out of town for the day, and that I'd find Shannon minding Eddie.  This suited me particuarly well, although I did wish for a chance to sit down and try to straighten things out.

I loved her still, but I'll be damned if I give up my career.  The moment she said "I do" she knew what she was getting herself into, as I've told myself repeatedly over these three or four weeks.  

I've had only myself, Seamus, and my good friends John Walker and Arthur Guinness to bolster my esteem and support.  Jeff had been conspicuous by his absence lately, and I thought I really should give him a call, hopefully before he destroys himself in another ludicrously insane match against that admirable cretin Python.

I put my bag down in the hall way and removed my sunglasses, and listened, hopeful to hear Eddie's laugh.  I looked around and hear or saw neither Shannon or Eddie, so I headed upstairs to Eddie's room.  I first checked my bedroom, only to find it locked shut.  I cursed under my breath, and peered into Eddie's room, to find him sound asleep.

My heart was at peace for the first time in seeming eternities as I saw my beloved little boy sleeping happily, clutching his blanket.  I leaned forward and brushed his face, and kissed his forehead.  I smiled broadly and contentedly, as he murmured in his sleep.  Steph told me I was prone to doing so too at times, so if ever his future wife complains, she'll know who to blame for that particular trait.

I left Edward to his slumber and wanted to find where Shannon had gotten herself to in order to see how things were getting along in her world, and more importantly, to see how Mrs. Lancaster was handling things.  Her messages on my mobile were distinctively hostile, but I truly hoped there was something laying underneath, something that would give any suggestion that our relationship as it was was salvagable.

Leaving Edward I took notice of the sound of running water.  I peeked around the hall and walked to the near by bathroom, and found a tshirt, jeans, bra and panties laying on the ground.  I raised my eyes to see Shannon's figure outlined in the enclosed shower, obscured, althought not totally, by steam.

I stood enchanted.  She had always struck me as vivacious, from the few times we had time to spend together, and I knew that no dress, no gown, would ever do justice to her figure and appearance.  

Had I been ten years younger I would have used any means to seduce her and win her favour.  But what is age...

My fantasy though was limited and kept within the confines of my mind, but this...this was a vision, one element of my fantasy that could be fulfilled.

My eyes gazed fixated upon her as she ran her hands over her chest, the water methodically beating down on her ivory form.

The water suddenly switched off and I was rudely interrupted and brought back to reality.  I crept away quickly and went back to Edward's room.  

Shannon appeared a few minutes later, her blond hair hanging wet.  She smiled happily and greeted me.  I reciprocated, but unable to erase the imagery my eyes - and the rest of me - had the pleasure of viewing.

We spent the next few hours together, playing with Edward.  I had missed my little boy more than I imagined.  Shannon moved with and handled Eddie so naturally, flawlessly.  Eddie obviously adored her, and had little hesitation about showing affection for his sitter.

She looked all the more beautiful as she laughed and played with my son.

My eyes dared not leave her.  I began to speak with my hormones, disregarding both my heart and mind.

"Ms. Robins...would you be so good as to join me for dinner tonight."

Shannon was a bit taken aback.  After a moment she agreed.

I dared to hope that what I saw in the bathroom would be mine by the end of the night.  The fantasy was no longer confined to my mind.

I set about cooking a meal in the kitchen, something I hadn't had the pleasure of doing for quite some time.  I chopped away at various ingredients when I was greeted by a tickle to the side.

I jumped and gave a yell of surprise.

"Dear God woman you hoping for a sliced finger in your meal or what."

She gave a slight giggle and jumped up on the counter, placing some of her more intriguing features at eye level.  I nearly tripped over my own hands as I reached over for my glass of wine, taking a long sip.

"Mmm red wine," she ooohed.  "Haven't had that in a long time."

"Well go on sweetheart, have a sip."

"Nah, not out of that glass, you've probably got cooties."  She sneered playfully.

Cooties?  Well shit, there's only so much one of my stock can take.

"Cooties eh?  Well you're gonna get a serious case of the tickles methinks my fair lady."

I placed my wine glass down and immediately grabbed her around the waist and began to tickle her without mercy.

She tried to talk without much luck between her screams.  "I bet you've never had the plesaure of being tickled by a member of the British aristocracy my lady!"

I picked her up and walked out of the kitchen with her, until her screams of laughter and kicking and wiggling got the best of me. I put her down on the ground and we stood face to face, chest to chest.  

We exchanged a long, prolonged stare.  I felt her tremble as I tingled with anticipation.

"Robert..."  she whispered under her breath.  

I did not respond, as I continued my stare.

Two forces were now locked in mortal combat in my mind.  Proceed...or halt.  Desire...restraint.

For the time being, somehow, the latter won out.  I let go of her and stood back and smiled.  She gave a weak smile and chuckled to herself.  I tried to relieve the tension immediately.

"There now...perhaps that will teach you a lesson."

She didn't say anything, until she mentioned she had better check on Eddie quickly.

I nodded as she bolted from the room.  I tried to continue my preparations for dinner but was unable.  

I laughed quietly to myself and shook my head, picking up my wine glass and finishing the rest.

For once the powers of darkness had been fended off, contrary to the pattern that I found myself locked in.  

But I should not be so lucky in Las Vegas.

Scene II: near McCarron International Airport, Las Vegas, NV - Tuesday, April 29, 2003

The flight to Las Vegas was uneventful at that point as I remained settled in the passenger area of my Lear Jet, when my mobile rang.  

"Lancaster."

"Your Grace?"

"Yes, this is Robert Lancaster. To whom do I have pleasure of addressing."

"This is Alan Rochester of the Bellagio Resort Hotel, in Las Vegas."

I had heard of the Bellagio. Cost over $1 billion to build, had works of Picasso and Renoir or illustrious painters such as them hanging in a gallery.  Quite impressive, and had caught my eye in the past.

"Mr. Rochester, what can I do for you."

"I'm sorry to disturb you on your private line sir.  On behalf of the Bellagio and MGM-Mirage, we would like to cordially invite you and hope that you would allow us the pleasure of accomodating you, if you so wish, in our penthouse suite upon arrival in Las Vegas.  We've sent a limosine to the airport to pick you up as well."

I hadn't really thought of where to stay in Vegas, having turned down Seamus' gracious offer of staying with himself and Rebecca in Phoenix, which was only a stone's throw away.  With his in-laws coming soon apparently, I had no intention of getting myself mixed up in that display.  Being with two other Brits was one thing, but having five in one house was more than I dared get into.

I had little hesitation though in accepting such a generous offer from the Bellagio, and gladly took it.

"That's very kind of you Mr. Rochester, and I most certainly accept."

The competition between hotels in Las Vegas for high profile guests, which is a category I suppose I fell under, was fierce. MGM-Mirage was smart to pounce so early.  Perhaps they knew of my past reputation for squandering hundreds of thousands if not millions at the tables.  A habit I had given up.

But lucky for them, it was one I planned to revive on this jaunt to Sin City.

The satisfaction in his voice was clear. "Thank you sir, believe me when I say that it will be an absolute pleasure to accomodate you."

I bet it is you bastard seeing how much money you're going to clean out of me.

"Not at all."

"We've taken the liberty of stocking your room with bottles of John Walker Red, Black, Gold and Blue for your pleasure, and have placed the full staff of our chefs at your disposal.  And should you chose to participate in any of our table games or what not, the management will put up to $25 million in credit to your use.  Should you require any more, it will be no trouble whatsoever.  Thank you once again sir!"

They had done their research well.  I would enjoy myself thoroughly.

"You're most welcome, good bye for now."

I hung up, feeling all the more satisfied and excited about this stay.  I had not been to Las Vegas in years, as an arrogant youth I had always preferred Monte Carlo, trying my luck at the tables and with the older women in their late twenties and early thirties.

I was in the Devil's back yard, and I intended to play along with him and by his rules every moment I was here.  It was time to let go, time to indulge, and time to plan and plot with Seamus to destroy and wreak havoc on the BWWa and our opponents.

Scene III: the Bellagio, Las Vegas, NV - Tuesday, April 29, 2003

The limosine met me at the airport as Mr. Rochester had promised, and whisked me promptly to the lavish resort.  Pure elegance is perhaps the simplest way to describe what I found upon my arrival.

I was more than tempted to consider buying the damn penthouse on the 36th floor, where I was staying, and take residence there whilst I was in bloody exile from Lincoln.

I explored my suite and found the selection of John Walker as granted.  I greedily headed right for the John Walker Blue and poured myself a large helping.  I threw off my jacket and lay down on my bed, when someone, God knows who, knocked on my door.  

Shit. I come in and not five minutes later they have someone harassing me already.

I wearily convinced myself to get off the bed and saunter over to the door.

Oh...God.

"OH MY GOD! It's YOU!"

Christine Yang had somehow found her way back into my life.  The woman with whom I had a very illicit affair a few years past. The woman who also helped transform my then business, Robert Goodlife Investment Enterprises, into a house hold name.  The woman who nearly cost me my career, my wife, my life.

I stood dazed.  First Bourbon, in Jerusalem, then this she-devil.  The ghosts of years past all seemed to be returning to haunt me once again.  

The Devil had not forgotten his pledge to me.

You are coming to Hell.  And I shall not stop until you are here.

I couldn't express much other than shock and disbelief.

"What in the hell are you doing here."

She tilted her head and pursed her lips.  "I've finally tracked you down you after years of searching...what do you think dumbass, I work here, and I happen to be the priority client liason for MGM-Mirage.  It's my duty to welcome the guests to the hotel officially and provide what's needed."

She had not changed at all.  She was still ravenously beautiful, although her breast implants made her all the more alluring - if not fraudulent.  And a bitch, certainly a bitch, still, and proud of the fact.

"Well are you going to let me come in or are you just going to stand there staring at my tits?"

My jaw dropped to an extent as she laughed and pushed her way in.

"Mmm. Don't you just love this room?  I've been hoping that someday I'd be able to stay in one of these rooms one night, instead of just showing them around to clients."

She sat down on my bed and crossed her legs.  If I was not salivating from my mouth, my mind certainly was.  She wore a tight yet smart business suit with the skirt coming up a bit short of her knees.  

I closed the door and walked over and stood in front of her.

"Listen, if you've done your duty, just get the hell out of here."  I attempted to put up some semblance of resistance.

Christine pouted.  "Aww Robbie, there was a time that you'd want me all over you..." she reached for my hand and caressed it. "Come on babe, you know I don't want you to spend your time alone in Las Vegas.  Your wife, whatever her name is, isn't making you happy."

I looked down, with a frown.  "And just what makes you think that."

She shrugged and smiled.  "I see it in your eyes, just the same as I left you.  Now come on, let's go get some dinner and hit the tables.  My shift ends in a few hours.  But I have nothing to do..."

Christine stood up and pressed her chest against me, and caressed my arms.

"Perhaps we can do some...catching up."

"I have a better idea."  I shoved her back onto the bed.  She giggled. "Why don't you go get me a tuxedo to wear out for this little evening out.  Then you can bring your tight little ass back up here, and help me choose which one to wear."

She grinned flirtatiously.  She loved it, I knew it.  Christine got back up and once again put her arms around me, and kissed me on the neck.  I shivered.

"I won't be long babe."

Christine turned and left.  What the fuck was I getting myself into.  Again.

She returned as promised with a few very smart tuxedos as I had requested.  She herself had changed into a flowing purple silk, strapless dress.  We wined and dined, talked business, love, career, life.  She hadn't really kept up-to-date with the ongoings of my life, which suited me fine.  The less she knew, the better.  But she did know about the BWWa, being a Las Vegas resident now.

She warned me about SeX, and also that Flare, although a dope at times, was a very dangerous man, as was Thunder.  I knew this already about both teams, but I heeded her words nevertheless.

If they were able to defeat SeX, whom we had to strive greatly to defeat, I knew we were in for one hell of a fight.  Those titles around their waists were just as prestigious as the ones Seamus and I bore, and symbolized that obviously, they were the best at what they did within the confines of the BWWa.

This is something Seamus and I have to contend with.  As well as the pressure the people would be bringing to bare.  We would shut them out though and concentrate on the task at hand.  It was our time to shine still.  And I knew that that time could not last such a short period of time.  I would not.  Can not. Shall not let that happen.  

But what of the demons.  They haunt me still.  Enough.  Embrace them.  Don't fight them.  The time for self-doubt is over.  Let them guide you now.  There is a reason you are the Whiskey Devils.  

So.  Come Silver.  Respect your opponents, as always.  Whether Flare/Thunder, or SeX.  And if they do not respect you coming into the ring? Make sure as hell they respect you coming out of it, by means of the blood you spill and the bones you BREAK.

There was no alternative.

I stare into my glass of red wine imaging the blood of our opponents.  I became lost in it.  The few drops that were on the walls of the glass trickled down slowly.  A work of art. Poetry, a symphonic blend of colour and texture.

A shame the blood of our opponents won't do justice to this glass of wine.  But I will savour that all the more.

I thought on these things, and finished our meal.

With dinner done, it was time to escape work, and try my luck in Bellagio's tastefully equipped casino.  I tried my hand at baccarat.  

And lost.  

At poker.  

And lost.  

At blackjack.  

And lost.  

At the five cent nickel slots.

Bar. Bar. Bar.

And won.

Christine giggled uproariously as she saw me hit the jackpot on the fucking nickel machine.  

"Congrats babe, you just won about $100 in nickels."

I couldn't help but laugh either, seeing how I had lost about three million dollars in only a few hours, yet won $100 in change.

I called over one of the change wagons that went around the casino and exchanged my crates full of nickels for a crisp Benjamin Franklin.  Christine snatched it from my hand and taking my arm, slipped it down her cleavage.

"That better pay off later," I suggested.

That was my greatest hope of all coming into Las Vegas.  Would this journey pay off.  Would we again show the world why we deserved to wear the championship belts.  Would we stand victorious in the face of any odds, against any men who would try to usurp our hold.

Well.

If our bout come Silver pays off as well as that evening did with Christine Yang.

The journey will pay off handsomely.