Lancaster's Inferno - Cocytus (Circle IX - the Ultimate Destroyer
- Part II)

Scene I: somewhere in England - Thursday, June 19, 2003

He sat in a luxurious surrounding, a cup of tea at his side, which was placed down slowly onto the fine porcelain saucer.  The rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock nearby mixed with the sounds of the television set.

Seemingly out of place was Wildfire!, aired on satellite across the ocean and to the Old Country, which was playing on low volume.

The gentleman in question sat attently while watching Lancaster's entanglement with Adam-X.  

He noted Xavier's state and chuckled to himself, speaking in very fine English.

"Seems Xavier has taken after you, you drunken bastard."  He raised the cup of tea to his lips again and wiped his mouth with a fine linen napkin, laying it gently onto a silver tray.  

As the match abruptly ended, the man frowned and shook his head.  He leaned over and finished the last of his tea, before slowly, quietly, picked up the telephone.  The phone rang in its distinctive British manner - ring ring, ring ring...ring ring, rinng ring - before being answered.

"Allo?"

"Simon?"  

"Ah, it's you...you ready to go 'head with that story for today's Sun?  Made up yer mind?"

The man he was speaking to spoke like a gruff, Cockney newspaper man - which he in fact was.

"Yes, indeed I have.  Go with the story, and ring me back in a few days when you know the circulation numbers for the piece.  I hope it will be as high as the previous one."

"No problem there mate, the public ate it up.  Should get the Palace's knickers in a twist again too."

He smiled.

"Excellent. I thank you sir very much."

"No, thank you for letting me know about this juicy little tidbit.  That's two stories now and me editor is going to love it.  Cheers fer now mate!"

"Good evening."


He hung up the phone and sat and smiled to himself.  He was doing the right thing, he knew he was.  And that's all that mattered.  

He had set things up with Kathy O'Donnell, behind Stephanie Lancaster's back, to exaggerate to a certain extent the charges of infidelity as reported in the Sun, and now decided to drop yet another bombshell on the Duke's life, to ensure divorce, and to do what in his mind, was the right thing, the best thing for all considered.

He arranged to have a copy of the next day's Sun forwarded to Stephanie, anonymously of course, so she could send it along to Robert in the United States.

He arose from the chair slowly, and stretched, and moved for bed.  He slept well that night.  

In a few weeks time, God willing, all would be settled, and honour, integrity, would be restored to his world.



Scene II: Lincoln, NB - hotel suite of Robert Lancaster - Friday, June 20, 2003

I don't know how I got here, but here I am, anyway, with perhaps the biggest hangover in the history of mankind.

I roll over onto my back on the bed whose sheets have been tossed askew of the bed itself, all over the floor and at the sides.  I didn't even have
any recollection, at least to any great extent of the past forty-eight hours.

My mouth was a sour mixture of...I smacked my lips...holy shit...beer, whisky and who the fuck knows what else.  My eyes, blurred, heavy, glanced over at the mini bar, whose contents were now devoid of anything with alcohol.

I closed my eyes and only hoped that the mouthwash in the bathroom was still full.  Not to cleanse my mouth, although that would be nice, but rather, to make sure I had not consumed it too.

I didn't know what to do, where to go, whom to call.  Jeff, Seamus, had to be told.  I needed them more than anything, their support, their counsel.

And counsel from my...counsel.

All I care about now is Edward, my baby boy.  If Stephanie won't listen to my pleas, no matter how sincere, no matter how desperate or pathetic they may be, then, damn her to hell, along with me too.

She will lose her home in Wessex.  She will lose her title and no longer will she be privileged to be called "Your Grace" any longer.  She will drop to the depths of nobility and take up her title as "Lady" once again.  

But she will not lose Edward.  I am more than certain that she would win any custody battle for our baby boy.  Given my past alcoholism - fuck that, present alcoholism - and given my schedule of having to travel city to city across the United States, there would be little to no chance of victory.  

Her love for him is strong, and at least that is a comfort.  What is no comfort is how I felt the pillars of my marriage had been ripped out from under us, one stone at a time, and before sanity or reason could have its say, things lay in utter destruction.

All hope for reconciliation was surely in vain.

But shit, this suit is so uncomfortable.  I have to get it off...

I slipped out of my jacket and tore off my shirt, without noticing the buttons flying off in all directions, which proved more difficult than I ever could have imagined...not since I was last pissed drunk.

And as always, when it's most inconvenient, a knock came at the hotel door.

I groaned and mumbled to myself several incomprehensible expletives as I stumbled to my feet, and then proceeded to stumble with equal elegance to the door, bracing myself on anything, particularly the wall, along the way.  

I opened the door by some miracle, and was greeted by one of the hotel employees holding yet another package for me.  With glazed eyes I looked at him confusingly and with despair, unable to imagine what horrors this package could have in store.

I closed the door with as much force as I could, with all the skill of a bed-ridden senior citizen, and wobbled back to the bed.  I sloppily tore the package open again.  A newspaper, that much I could tell, and what looked like a letter.  I threw the latter aside and unfolded the paper and glanced at it.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Christttttttttttttttttttttttttt."


I passed out.


  
Satan looked down upon his unconscious body and smiled contently.

You are coming to Hell.  And now thou art here.  Thou hast been vanquished.
I am the Fallen Angel, Lord of Evils;
the Ultimate Destroyer
And thou shalt not serve any other than me, and thou shalt do so forevermore.



http://www.geocities.com/culturalexorcist/wessex/hofl.html

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1