Escalation

Scene I: somewhere in Canada - a studio - Wednesday, October 15, 2003

My tone is slow and deliberate.  I want every word to resonate within what he pleases to call his mind.

There was nothing elaborate about the set up.  Just me, and a camera, behind a black background.

I had no desire to speak to the Authority at this point.  It was just me, and him.  The Tag Team Champion and the Heavyweight Champion.

I wear nothing but a pair of dark blue cK jeans, Chain of Nobility, and my black Jacobins tshirt which I wear with the utmost pride.

"Jeffery.  Didn't like dinner?  Marissah not your cup of tea?  You soured so quickly after so few hours after my invitation to NYC.  What happened.  I tried to be amiable.  I tried to assure you that you are not the one I am after, not you, the person...my friend...but you, the symbol, of Authority tyranny."

I sigh and moisten my lips, and continue.

"Apparently the person whom I thought knew me the best may very well know me least.  You gave me much to think about in your little diatribe.  Let us begin."

"I confess that we have not tangled in quite a long time.  Yes you are correct.  I have seen you mature and gain stature and confidence in the ring, and you have reached the absolute pinnacle of your skill.  Think you I ignorant however?  Why remind me of the obvious.  Do not take me to be so naive good sir.  If we should tangle come Wildfire, and I am sure you will wish to get your hands around my throat, I will keep this well in mind.  But do take your own bloody advice as well - becareful what you wish for my friend...the numbers are not on your side.  Behold what we did to Longshanks.  Your fate could easily be as his."

I lower my head to think of what to say next.  His words are still fresh in my mind.

"Now you declare and assert something most foul.  You had to throw ego and prestige into the mix, and once again His Grace by the Grace of God Robert Lancaster II, Duke of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Wessex is accused of being lustful for gold and prestige.  You bank on your in ring victory for prestige.  I prefer to look to my works outside the ring.  And I look to the past to look to the futue.  In my blood flows the lives and deaths of the Dukes and Duchesses of Wessex for the past one thousand years.  At Hastings...in France...against Cromwell...at Waterloo...at Flanders Field...and in London where the bombs of the Luftwaffe claimed my grandfather.  I do not understand you Jeffery.  Perhaps I do not know you, either."

Unfortunate.

"I explained to you so many times that what we did is for you.  To win you on to our side.  That the Jacobins are so pure that we would destroy anyone to win liberty.  What we did was not for your championship.  This is and has never been about your victory in the ring.  Such an assertion is beyond ludicrous and I denounce it on every level.  And besides."

I reach down and grab for something.  The Tag Team Championship.

"This may not be heavyweight gold, but it shows that through guile and valour that I am the best at what I do for the time being. And did you not tell me in my condo that such quibbling was childish.  I expect more Jeffery."

I drop it as quickly as I picked it up.

I shake my head.

"And the most painful of all.  The question of your soul.  I am not you, therefore I can only speculate.  As you did.  So shall I. The darkness of your soul has come full circle...but somewhere it turned wrongly.  You declare that your "family" has been to hell with you and back.  Where were they when you were in Toronto during your divorce proceedings and wrongfully accused. I was there.  Where were you when the Authority was tearing itself apart.  No where.  You had to come out on your own initiative and were kept out of the circle.  Where were you when myself and my brethren were creating the Jacobins.  We came to you.  We wanted you to join our brotherhood.  You were nowhere.  You had crawled on your hands on knees when your career was reaching new lows and begged the Authority to take you earlier.  You did not once come to us, nor me personally, when you were down.  You turned your back on the Triumvirate, the Pogue Mahone Union.  At EVERY point in your career," I point to the lens, "you turned on US."

I had enough postulating.  My emotions took over.

"And now look at you.  You're a star.  You have your mantle.  And the Jacobins will hack and chip away at this mantle until you fall back to earth like you so richly deserve.  You cannot and will not remain champion forever.  The Authority's time at the top of the world is not resurrecting...there is no rebirth, no renaissance...only the twilight that comes under the shadow of the Jacobin banner.  And you sit with your friends and declare that come Wildfire we will not fight you, and cannot do so.  All I can say is Libertas an mortis."

I nearly began to shake, but manage to stay composed.  For now.

"Listen to these words well my friend.  And it will be Libertas an mortis, yesterday, today, tomorrow - forever..."  

I explode.  

"LIBERTAS AN MORTIS, LIBERTAS AN MORTIS, LIBERTAS AN MORTIS, they are FAR MORE POWERFUL WORDS THAN THE ARROGANT MEANINGLESS TRIPE YOU SPEW," I yell empassionately, defiant yet almost pleading for his sanity.

I compose myself.

"These words express an unseating desire for liberty.  Liberty over the hegemony that dominates our realm, and whose boot rests on the throat of every single competitor who is not part of your league of extraordinary gentlemen.  'You can't fight us!'  So believed Louis XVI.  And his fate will either befall you...or us.  But that is our choice: LIBERTY OR DEATH.  And yours too Jeffery.  Which will you choose.  Liberty. Or death."

"I shall breakfast well and I shall gladly vomit it on your motionless, blood stained body.  The only fear that I will be tasting will be the fear that the moment I slain you will not last forever.  But we shall be in Hell.  And I know Hell intimately."

He began to take over my tongue and mind.

"For you see when you abandon Him and turn to the Dark Empowerment you become stronger and driven.  And this is what you shall see as soon as you wish.  And it shall be 'My Time' versus 'The Nobility of the Sword.  And when I see Mace and Xavier, I shall see only you now."

I reached down once more and produced a sword.

"In due time my friend."  I slit the palm of my hand slowly, ensuring it did not go deep, the same palm that had been damaged by the Jacobine guillotine in Paris.  "My blade will fall upon your neck."

I held my hand up to expose the blood that flows forth.

"The escalation shall be upon your shoulders.  Not mine.  Remember.  And regret."

I stood up and walked away.


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

Jacobins

http://www.geocities.com/culturalexorcist/CSWA/jacobins.html

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1