The Task At Hand
Wednesday, September 3, 2003 - Sioux Falls, ND - the Sioux Falls Arena, immediately after Wildfire!
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Fate smiled upon three-quarters of the Jacobins as well - Finnegan, Wright, Lancaster - all entered in the Last Man Standing tournament for the right to face Adam-X at the end of the night.
A night lay ahead which might see either of the Whiskey Devils walk out with two championships strapped around their waists. The future held everything for them. It was theirs for the taking.
187 was sent a clear and decisive message - you do not cross the path of these men whose destination is destiny.
And that destiny was to cross paths against the turncoats - the fickle, the maligned, the self-absorbed egotistical Authority of Constantine and Napalm, whose treason left the original Authority fractured and in ruins.
As for the moments after Wildfire, the Whiskey Devils were left alone to think on the events of the evening, and planning conquest for later. The Scythe Meister had already departed into the darkness, and Wright was escourted immediately after his bout to get looked over by medical staff after his brutal encouter with Blackwell.
That left the Whiskey Devils, the remaining members of the Jacobins, still present...Seamus Finnegan and Robert Lancaster II, to do the talking...or at least, some of it, anyway.
But not before some celebratory actions in the Jacobins locker room. It was stocked with a supply of Guinness, as always, just for such occassions - to either drown sorrows of a hard night, or to laugh, and plot against their next victims.
Their next victims?
Napalm, Constantine, Tate, Blackwell, Taranis, Moonstar, Python, Longshanks...even Kushner...possibly even Wright.
Rack 'em up.
And before that, they must take out Napalm and Constantine, and just possibly, take their Tag Team Championship at the same time.
But for now, a drink.
The Duke and Seamus had changed into their street clothes by that moment as they sought some refreshment. Seamus collapsed exhaustedly on a couch as Lancaster queried his teammate:
"Guinness?"
Might as well ask "Is the Pope Catholic," to answer such an obvious question.
"Nay lad, I think I'll just have water for a change...OF COURSE AH'LL HAVE A GUINNESS!"
Lancaster laughed. He enjoyed provoking Seamus with such oblivious comments.
"Okay there lad?" As the Duke hands Seamus a bottle of Guinness, which supposedly tasted like it came straight from the tap. There were no two better men in the world to judge the truth of the bottle's claim. "A bit antsy there are you, chomping at the bit already to destroy some Authority arse?"
Seamus nodded in agreement. "Feckin' aye, ye can bet yer arse ah'm ready fer the Wankerthority, lad...an'so's Mr. Shillelagh, isn't that right?"
Seamus held aloft his shillelagh, which now had two little black dots for eyes and a drawn on smile, and in Mr. Shillelagh's high-pitched "voice":
"Feckin' right! Wankerthority backstards suck arse!!! Whiskey Devils'll kick their fuppin' arses an'ah'll knock their goddamned teeth out! Feckin' aye!!!"
Robert rolled his eyes with a smirk as he opened his bottle and sat across from his compatriot. "It would seem Mr. Shillelagh sneaked into our liquor consignment during our match. Or did you just get tanked beforehand?"
"Good question, lad! Ah'll ask him! [to Mr. Shillelagh] Mr. Shillelagh, were ye drinkin' while we were out there kickin' 187's arse???" [in the Mr. Shillelagh voice] "Fuppin' right I was!!! An if ye don't like that ye can pogue mahone!" [in his normal voice] "Now now, Mr. Shillelagh...no need fer that sort o'language! [to Lancaster] See, he tends to get a wee bit wound up from time to time, if ye know what I mean!"
Seamus winked at Lancaster.
"We'll be the ones wound up if we can't keep the Darkness out of our business at this goddamned pay-per-view," sighed Lancaster. "Just how the HELL did they get that forklift so conveniently to block our door. Longshanks and company must be up Marshall's arse still despite his so called 'highway to hell.'"
Seamus nodded. "Ach, yer not wrong there, lad...somethin' about the whole thing just isn't right...or as Shakespeare put it, 'There's something rotten in the state of Denmark', aye?"
"No doubt." Robert took another swig of his Guinness. "Didn't know drinking Guinness made ye eloquent enough to quote Shakespeare. Can it also make you kick Constantine and Napalm's teeth down their filthy throats come the fourteenth?"
"Ach, Napalm, Constantine, and any other sorry bastard that gets in our way...ye name 'em, ah'll kick 'em!"
"I'm counting on it," as the Duke drained most of the remnants of his bottle of St. James' Gate's finest. "But for the moment at least we can sit back and enjoy a good night. Mr. Tate learned an invaluable lesson...and Brandon Reeves?" exclaimed Robert. "What the hell was that? I dare say I doubt he knew what he was getting himself involved with!"
"Ach, well, what can I say lad? Stick yer nose in the Jacobins business where it doesn't belong...an' we'll BREAK it...obviously Brandon Reeves had to learn that the hard way though, didn't he?" Seamus took another swig of his Guinness. "Ach, an'speakin' o' people revealin' themselves fer what they really are...what about that Jakie Dreamboat bastard...or Moon-what's-his-feckin'name-now??? Ye know who I mean, aye?"
"Of course. How could I not." Robert finished the last of his Guinness to get the mere thought of Dreamboat/Moonstar out of his mind.
"Aye, that bastard...thinks he's all that...thinks he's got what it takes to win the whole bloody thing...[a sadistic smile eeked its way across Seamus Finnegan's face]...aye, 'bloody'...ah'll drink to that!"
"So lad," tossing his bottle to the side. "Be honest.
Which would you rather have...the Tag Titles, or the Heavyweight Title.
You can be honest..."
Seamus thought about the question..."Well lad...ah've
been tag champion several times before...ah've never been the Heavyweight
champion in all my life, so I think the answer to that one's fairly obvious..."
he took another swig of his Guinness, then looked up at Lancaster with a sadistic
glint in his eye..."then again...we got ourselves a chance to destroy Napalm
an'Constantine an'take their belts away from them as well...I like the sound
o'that, don't ye?"
With a raised eyebrow the Duke
nodded his head.
"Of course
I do. And I'd love to do the same to them. But I too would love
to walk away that night with two straps around my waist. And should
you and I meet in the ring...or what happens if it's Jeff, or Wright that
you or I face. What then. I know my thoughts...but what are yours."
"Well then lad, ye and I've been up and down the
road for many years...but we've never crossed paths on opposing sides o'the
ring, have we?"
He smiled.
"Only
across the table with bottles of scotch in our hands my friend."
"Well then...if our paths should happen to cross inside that ring, lad...[winking at Lancaster] it'd be an honour."
Lancaster knew all too well by that wink that Seamus meant he would have no hesitation to take him out if needed be. The feeling was mutual, of course.
"And I'm sure Jeff and Wright will understand too that if they must cross one of us, that whiskey's devils won't have any hesitation in...dealing with them, in the, how shall one say...appropriate manner?"
Seamus nodded..."Indeed, lad...ah'm in it to win it...so should ye be...so should Kushner, an' so should Wright."
"Oh you know what's in my heart Seamus." He smirked knowingly. "But for now lad. I have my own places to be getting to, and you should get home to call your wife. Give my best to Becca and the wee one, as always."
The two men arose from their spots.
"Ach, will do lad, will do...but say, before we go...I hear there's a camera crew just down the hall...what do ye say, lad? Ye up for it?"
Lancaster patted Seamus on the shoulder.
"Let's go then and show those Authority bastards what we're made of."
They took their belongings and headed outside towards the CSWA backdrop that was in place for anyone who cared to let loose.
The camera fades in with Lancaster and Seamus, standing, staring directly
into the lens of the camera.
"September 14th will be a truly
fateful day for not just the Jacobins but for the Authority as well. On
that day the chance for glory will be doubly significant, what with the gauntlet
match and the war that will ensue for the Central States Tag Team Championship.
You, Napalm, you Constantine, your days of running, of avoiding, of
never defending those titles that you stole from TSM and Wright. Those
days are at an end. And misfortune would have it that those title are
returning back where they belong, to men who will have no fear of defending
them in and out, every week, every month, for as long as it takes, to show
why we were and are one of the greatest and longest reigning World Heavyweight
Tag Teams in CAL history. Mark us..." Lancaster declares in a low tone. "Mark us well."
"Adam-X and Nighthawk never had the opportunity face us...however it knocks for you, Constantine, Napalm. The opportunity to prove to the world why you hold those championships. Yet we shall prove to the world that our reign as World Champions was by no mere coincidence. It was destiny. And once more destiny shall be on our side come that night. We were denied when I initially returned this man - this Lucifer - to the ring, by my side," putting a hand on Seamus' shoulder. "By the actions of a man who has yet to show his cowardly face since then. And your days of running are over. Now you must step up against the best in the world. Your souls have shown to be black with desire. You have challenged your former leader and seek to usurp him and unseat him in your own quests of vanity. Our quest shall be to destroy you. You have proven yourselves unworthy to wear the gold. Now behold two men - who are whisky's devils - who are worthy and shall do those titles honour where you did not."
"So Napalm, Constantine...ferget about 'Last Man
Standing'...ferget about the gauntlet match that the two o'ye are involved
in as well as the two o'us...ye can ferget all that, because when the smoke
clears...when the dust settles...the two men ye see right here before ye...will
be...THE LAST...TEAM...STANDING...and yer NEW CSWA Tag Team Champions, an'there
isn't a damn thing that either o'ye can do about it! An'after we're done
wi'ye, there'll be no runnin' o'the gauntlet fer either o'ye...kinda difficult
to run a gauntlet wi'out the ability to walk, isn't it? ISN'T IT??? Feckin'
aye...so Napalm, Constantine...September 14th, bring yer shytekickers, an'we'll
kick the shyte out of 'em...oh aye, it'll be a war, make no mistake about
it..."
"And with every fibre of our
being [with the utmost seriousness] we declare
to you, whose hegemony has been the tyranny of the CSWA, that we shall fight
you, onwards, and onwards, and onwards, until our declaration rings throughout
the entire CSWA, and thus we declare..."
"Libertas..."
"Libertas."
[Seamus
and Lancaster together] "LIBERTAS AN MORTIS."
The
two men hold their fists up towards the camera as the scene fades.
Lancaster
turned to his friend and compatriot.
"Where you off to now lad,"
asked Lancaster, as the camera crew wrapped things up.
"Ach, goin' home to see the wife an'the wee nipper
fer a few days...[reaching into his pocket and pulling
out a set of car keys] An'this time, ah'm drivin'!"
The
Duke nodded.
"Enjoy yourself. I'll be off to Europe for a few days."
"Ach, well then, have yerself a safe trip...ye returnin'
to Wessex I take it?"
He shook his head "no."
"To France for now. Maybe
elsewhere."
Seamus raised an eyebrow
"Aye? Is that so?"
"Indeed
lad."
"Ye sure that's a good idea? I mean...Bourbon..."
Lancaster put a hand up to halt Seamus.
"Don't worry lad I'm not going anywhere near that bastard. I'm there to plot strategy, to clear my mind. We'll set up some training dates if that's fine with you. I won't be there long.
Seamus nodded.
"Ach, well that's fine by me then. As for myself, a few days o'rest are in
order, but don't worry, ah'll be on the weights while ah'm at home...might
do a wee bit o'joggin' up Camelback Mountain as well, while ah'm at it...I
want to keep myself fit...[patting his beer gut]
God knows I need it!"
The Duke smirked and extended his hand to his partner
as the two exchanged farewells, with visions of grandeur dancing in their
heads.
The task at hand now.
Was to make them a reality.
