Of a Certain Type of Greed
Scene I:
Regina, Saskatchewan - Regina Agridome, Wildfire!
- Sunday, November 2, 2003
The camera may have switched off after the end of the Lancaster/Kushner
match, but the dramatics certainly did not end with them.
The EMT's had flooded out with stretchers for both men. Finnegan
had rushed out along with the rest of the Jacobins, to check on Lancaster.
Marissah stood silently with her hands clasped over her mouth, as
Finnegan shooed the medics away and helped to fish the Duke out of the broken
mess of the table. The Scythe Meister and Wright grabbed the Duke's arms and
put them over his shoulders, as the crowd began to applaud perhaps not his
spirit, but his effort.
The blood flowed freely out of Lancaster's busted head as small pieces
of table shrapnel remained implanted in the Duke's back. Robert turned his
head to see Kushner in a state not unlike his own: bloodied, brokened. Destroyed.
A dazed, gleeful smile crossed Lancaster's lips as he was helped up
along the rampway, medics trailing closely behind. Robert continued
to mumble incomprehensibly under his breath, until he was taken to the
medical room of the Agridome to be checked over.
"Come on we need some room here, get back everybody," one of the
medics ordered.
Seamus took Marissah by the arm gently. "Come
on lass...best give'm some room. Robbie's fine, believe me."
Both Wright and TSM excused themselves, assuring Seamus that they'd check
on Lancaster, as they had other business to attend to.
Finnegan and Marissah sat quietly as the medics cleaned up and bandaged
the cuts and scrapes left from the impact on the table. Lancaster slowly
started to come to after several minutes. The medics departed and
declared Lancaster fit, but cautioned him in the future from taking such
high risks, and to watch for signs of concussion.
I sat up and rubbed my head, and felt the dried blood and sweat still
covering my body. I saw Finnegan with a grin, as Marissah walked over
and took my hand. She kissed my cheek gently and then slapped me.
"You stupid son of a bitch..."
My mind was still in somewhat of a haze so I didn't quite know how to
react, except to sit there stunned.
She frowned and then laughed her intoxicating laugh. "You fabulous bastard. You were amazing. I'm
just glad you're okay."
Marissah grabbed my groin and squeezed hard. I yelped as she laughed
again. "I just hope the true nobility of this
sword is still okay."
I looked over to see Seamus shaking his head, covering his mouth to quiet
any laugh that might have emerged.
"If not lass, looks like ye'll be doing all the work yerself tonight."
She turned and smugly smirked.
"Don't worry I have to do most of the work myself
anyway."
I did not know what took more of a bruising: my body or my ego.
Scene II: London,
England - home of Lady Stephanie Erin Dynasty-Lancaster - Monday, November
3, 2003
Thousands of miles away a woman's ego took a bruising as well.
That of Lady Stephanie Erin Dynasty-Lancaster, former Duchess of Wessex.
It was a late night for me, but I knew I had left Eddy in good hands,
with my sister's niece. I was out at an art exhibition I had recently
debuted. Being away from that bastard left me time to take up painting
again, and I was more than pleased to release a small collection of paintings
I had done.
There was a gentleman there who expressed particular interest in me. I
must admit he was quite handsome and seemed very respectable. But
I also admit...I'm not ready yet. I may have wanted that divorce,
but the wound is still fresh.
I could only hope Robert was still feeling the same way. I was taken
aback when I saw him a few weeks ago, but I knew I had done the right thing
visiting Jeff. It was a relief not to see any woman with him at the
time.
But how can I know otherwise.
But...why should I even care.
I tried to shake the thoughts out of my mind as I parked my car and entered
the house. There was Jenny, sitting in front of the TV which was currently
on commercial. She turned her head and looked at me with a smile.
"Auntie Stephanie how was the show?"
I put my coat down on the couch and smiled. "It
was fine love, most people seemed to appreciate the work I did."
Most of the paintings were war themed, considering how close it was to Remembrance
Day, and considering the turmoil in the Middle East at this particular moment,
I thought it would be a fitting tribute to the men and women who serve in
Her Majesty's Armed Forces.
"That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
"How was Edward tonight."
"Good as gold...although he was clamouring on about
Uncle Ro...Mr. Lancaster, about how he missed him. Otherwise, the evening
was fine."
I nodded quietly. Edward, although only two and a bit, missed his
father greatly. I wondered when the louse would get around to seeing
him. He left a message on my phone saying that he had to arrange a
time to visit, but he hadn't called since.
"Good. What are you watching."
I went over to get a small sherry as a familiar voice crept back on the
screen, that of "Diamond" Lou Walsh.
I frowned and realized that it was early Monday morning, meaning Wildfire!
was playing live on the air here in the UK at this late hour.
Then that familiar music.
## Freude,
schoener Goetterfunken, ##
## Tochter aus Elysium, ##
## Wir betreten feuertrunken, ##
## Himmlische dein Heiligtum. ##
"Representing the JACOBINNNSS, and being accompanied
to the ring by Marissah Whitely..."
WHO?
I turned and gazed at the television to see some woman on Robert's arm,
carrying a purse and wearing a skirt that was all too short, and a tight
white blouse.
The bitch...that...bastard.
Who the hell was that...what was she doing there...
"Jenny turn that off now."
She turned and looked at me.
"But don't you want to see Uncle Ro..."
"I said turn it off," I said sternly. "And he's not your uncle. Now. Come on let's
get ready you've got school in the morning let's go."
She slowly turned off the TV and frowned slightly.
"I'm sorry Auntie...I should have..."
She didn't finish her sentence, as she gathered up her things. I saw
her out the door and I returned to my bedroom.
I sobbed quietly.
Scene III: New
York City, New York - Trump International Hotel & Tower - Monday, November
3,2003
I had not known how good it was to be home until the moment I returned to
New York City.
Well...obviously.
But I know what I mean.
Marissah and I had returned after spending the night in Saskatchewan, where
I slept in great discomfort. Not only for my body's sake but for the
sake of what had gone down that evening.
The verbal confrontation, the delivery of the little present for Jeff, and
of course, Seamus' troubles.
I wanted so badly to go with him to Belfast, where he was on his way for
his Father's wake, but he insisted it was something he had to deal with himself,
and his family. I completely understood.
In a way I envied him. He has a loving wife and child to support him
whilst going through this troubled time. When I lost my parents, all
I had was the bottle, and Simkins.
And even he is half a planet away almost.
The night just piled up on me, and all I wanted to do back in New York was
sleep.
But now that I am home, I have no desire whatsoever.
The night in Saskatchewan not only left me restless but unsatisfied as well.
That night many a message was sent to Jeff.
He answered it in the ring, but I want more.
The match resolved nothing. We proved that we were each others' equal.
But I want more.
That contest did allow me to release my frustrations and anxieties against
Jeff, and I am sure that it provided him with a similar outlet.
But I want more.
The knowledge though, must haunt him. The knowledge that it was I
who ended that contest and any hope of defeating me, when I sent
the back of his head through that table, demolishing his body and hopefully
his spirit as well. I know the latter was not accomplished, but I can
only hope. And if it has not been...I want more.
I could have delivered that maneuver inside the ring and taken his title.
But I wanted more. I wanted to hurt him.
I wanted to punish him.
I wanted to show that his brash treason would not go unpunished. Now
I have left him with scars that will remain with him until death do us part.
And I truly know that he knows that this is far from over. Far
from over.
I expect him to strike me next. And hard. He is not unlike me
in many ways, which makes his association with the Authority, such a waste
of talent.
He is so ruthless, so hell bent at getting what he wants. That is why
I am so fond of him, and also, oppositely, why it is so fun in trying to
destroy him.
I am testing myself as much as I am him. And I must say...I am enjoying
it immensely still.
"Robert you really should try and get some sleep."
So said Marissah, who walked in wearing a VS' black velvet and silk cami
pyjama set. So delicious, but I was in no physical condition to, shall
we say, perform, no matter how strong the urges.
I looked back and nodded, wincing in pain slightly. My head and neck
were still obviously throbbing.
"First tea," I declared holding up my tea cup,
"then sleep. Priorities my dear lady."
"Bullshit," she called out. She walked
around me and then plunked down on my lap. I wanted to curse in pain
but managed to bite my lip. She put her arms around my neck and kissed
me playfully. "Kissing and tea should be your
only priorities."
"I'll agree to most of that." I sipped
my tea some more as she mockingly slapped me.
Quite.
So.
"How did you enjoy your first show."
She grinned wickedly. "It's so fucking low brow,
honestly...but I had a helluva time. You should have hit that bastard
with a folding chair or whatever though, he deserved it."
"That would have gotten me disqualified."
"Who gives a shit," she protested. "You still lost the damn match at any rate."
Uhh. "Technically we BOTH lost. Besides
driving his bloody head through a table taught him a lesson I'm sure he won't
forget."
"I suppose that is something. But are you two
ever going to fight or whatever again."
I put my cup down and stared directly at her. "I sincerely hope so."
"In that case," she took the cup and saucer
and put them aside. "Remember...audaces fortuna
iuvat."
Fortune favours the bold.
I smirked and nodded my head. "Then I shall be
bold..."
Because.
I want more.
http://www.geocities.com/culturalexorcist/wessex/lancaster.html
http://www.geocities.com/culturalexorcist/CSWA/jacobins.html
