Lancaster's Inferno - Maleboge (Circle VIII - the False Witnesses)

Scene I: Lincoln, NB - hotel suite of Robert Lancaster - Saturday, May 24, 2003

The past week or so was much like every other week from the past several months.  It yielded nothing in relation to any advancement in relations between myself and Stephanie.  If anything, I was still thinking about Kathy, and quite frankly, trying to understand just what the hell went on that night.  I obviously cannot recall one iota of what went down...so to speak...that evening.

The empty wrappers tell me that we must have initiated "sexual relations," to quote a great man.  I, however, have no recollection of doing so...then again, I had enough alcohol in me to intoxicate a blue whale.

I sat rather amused at myself if I in fact managed to pull it off in such a state.  Kathy certainly seemed satisfied in the morning.  I can never know though to be sure.  I only hope she doesn't come back nine months from now knocking on my door with an eight pound surprise in her arms.

Then again of course...adultery was not what I had intended that evening.  Companionship, yes.  I shall not deny that for a moment.  I was lonely, drunk, and shit, horny.  Sex was not on my agenda though.

Damn.

I slid back in my chair, slowly sipping a Napoleon brandy.  My wife.  My Stephanie.  The woman I swore to love and honour and obey.  What the hell happened.

And why the hell do I keep asking myself.

Day in, day out.  The question haunts me, and continues to do so.

It's time to stop wondering.  This had to be resolved one way or another.  Reconciliation, divorce.  I had no real desire to follow Jeff's path.  Oh how I envied Seamus.  Yet he's experiencing right now in those first few months of marriage which I already have

God...no, wait...not God.  Well...may whatever force protect Seamus Finnegan's marriage.  And may whatever force help Jeff and I.

I raised the last drops of Napoleon brandy in my glass in toast, and savoured the remnants as they slid down my throat.

A knock at the door.

At last, they're almost an hour late.

I had received a call from an internet wrestling journalist requesting an interview, something I rarely granted.  In this case though, I accepted, and invited them to my suite to get a few things off my chest, and to, perhaps...make another public appeal to my wife.

"Mr. Williams, thank you for coming."

The man smiled and took Lancaster's hand.  "Thank you, it's an honour."

"Not at all, please do come in."

I showed him in and offered him a drink, which he declined.  I sat down opposite him, grabbing another glass of brandy before doing so.

"Alright...feel free to begin, no questions are out-of-bounds, don't hesitate to ask a thing."

The man nodded, and reaching into his jacket, pulled out a small personal recorder, and clicked "record," marking the beginning of the interview.

"Alright wrestling fans, we have an enormous surprise for you, a one-on-one interview with perhaps one of the fastest rising stars in wrestling today.  Although an English aristocrat, he chose to enter the ring using his skills he honed in England.  He's a former NAWA American Champion, MSWA Smokey Mountain Heritage Champion, first ever CSWA Great Plains Champion, and is currently one half of the reigning Coalition of Affiliated Leagues' World Heavyweight Tag Team Champions, the Whiskey Devils, he's Robert Lancaster II.  Thank you Mr. Lancaster for joining us today."

"You're more than welcome, the pleasure is mine."

The man was a professional, no doubt about that.  Lancaster knew the tricks though - soften them up with a pleasant introduction, then kick the shit out of them later on.  Didn't matter though.

"First things first, how are things going, particularly with your personal life."

Damn. This guy didn't waste anytime.  Good.  I didn't want any stalling bullshit.

"You can likely guess that things are, uh, continuing along as they have been over the past several weeks, uh, shitty, I suppose would be an appropriate word, but, over all, things are...going."

"That doesn't allow for very much interpretation."

"That's rather the point.  Things are not going as I wish, and I can only hope that things can somehow improve."

"Why didn't you retire like your wife requested."

"Because I felt that she would have changed her mind once she saw how much I had travelled, and how much this business means to me, something I apparently thought she knew from those few years ago when we first started in the CWF."

"You admit though that that was the breaking point, so to speak, that has lead to your separation."

Bastard.  I shifted in my chair.  I took a gulp of my brandy.

"We're not separated, we're apart, yes, but we have not decided anything yet."

"Have you had any extra marital affairs since you and your wife...came apart, to use your terminology."

My eyes grew wide with disbelief.  This guy had some fucking nerve to ask me that.

"No."

I cast a glare at him, telling him without so many words, to move on.  Oh shit.

"Do you love your wife?"

"Yes...I do.  With all my heart."

"Do you have a drinking problem."

This was becoming more of an interrogation than an interview.

"I did.  At one time.  Everyone knows that."

"But what about now?  Several people report seeing yourself and your tag partner Seamus Finnegan intoxicated out of your minds in Las Vegas after defeating Flare and Thunder, that same night actually."

I smiled luke warmly.

"That was between Seamus and I, two men, two Brits, two old drinking friends.  It's not a habit, I assure you."

He shrugged his shoulders, and after glancing at a note pad he had brought with him, no doubt scattered with various questions of the pertinent and non-pertinent sort alike, proceeded.

"Adam-X took seemingly a few shots at yourself and Seamus in a recent interview, what do you have to say to that, and about the man, and the Fury?"

I stared blankly ahead.

"Xavier is Xavier.  Need one say more."

"Do you hate the Authority?"

"I've not always seen eye-to-eye with them, nor will I likely ever, but if they can help tame the Darkness...alright then."

"What is going on with Jeff Kushner as of late?  He's been very sporadic with his appearances."

I had no intention of answering that.

"You'll have to ask him that."

He nodded to himself and once again checked his notes.

"You're currently one half of the CAL World Tag Team Champions.  After this coming Wildfire, you're going to the IWA to face most likely Big D and Impact.  What are your thoughts."

Finally a decent, "normal" question.

"Seamus and I, as usual, will do all we can to keep these titles here in the CSWA, where they belong, and if we should happen to face Big D and Impact, that's fine.  We'll do to them what we've done to Flare, Thunder, McCracken, Vincent.  Defeat them."

I took another drink.

"Is there any team in the CSWA you'd like to face should you retain against the IWA's team and through Coronation II?"

"Chris Wright and the Scythe Meister would make worthy opponents, since they pushed the Authority to the limit.  Ripper Longshanks, the world's favourite asshole, and any other member of the Darkness would be fun...and of course, your buddies the Fury.  Anyone really."

"A few more things, then we'll move on to some name association.  What were you doing in Jerusualem a few weeks ago?"

This gentleman had clearly done his homework.

"That's my own business."

Perhaps some questions were out-of-bounds after all.

"Will you ever be CAL World Heavyweight Champion someday."

"I have no idea.  I need to earn a shot before contemplating something so grand."

"Alright. Name association.  Robert Marshall."

"Businessman, sometimes paranoid megalomaniac, over-all nice guy."

I smirked.

"Loki."

"Crazy, talented son of a bitch, too bad he got led astray."

"Alex Constantine."

"A leader...perhaps the only one of them I can respect."

"Edward Lancaster."

"My baby boy, my inspiration."

"Whiskey."

"A man's best friend, and as in 'Whiskey Devils,' legends in the making."

"Kathy O'Donnell."

What the...I had to think fast, and blurted out:

"Sweetheart."

"Robert Lancaster II, thank you very much."

I could not believe...just how...what...something...

"You're most welcome."

He stopped his recorder and I hurriedly thanked him again and showed him to the door.

What the fuck was going on.

Scene II: Lincoln, NB - car of Mr. Williams, interviewer - Saturday, May 24, 2003

He hung up his cell phone and continued towards the Lancasters' home in Lincoln, armed with his interview, hot, ready to present to the wife of the Duke of Wessex.

What was that saying about a woman scorned?