A Time For War

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

Dallas, Texas - just outside hotel of Chris "the Thrill" Wright/inside the hotel

The exhaustion was thick and all-consuming, but still, Robert Lancaster drove on, towards his destination.

Clutching a piece of paper in hand, and a bag at his foot, the Duke of Wessex, wearing a wrinkled combination of a t-shirt, sports jacket, and trousers, pulled up in his rented Jaguar in front of the hotel of Chris "the Thrill" Wright, in Dallas, Texas.  He wearily stepped out of the car as the bright yet cool Dallas morning greeted him, rubbing his eyes under his shades, as he tossed his keys to the valet, before entering the hotel.

He walked coolly over to the reception desk, before a gentleman in his mid thirties greeted him.

"Good morning sir, how may I be of assistance today?"

Ugh.  Such cheeriness in the face of such exhaustion should be illegal.  The Duke forced a smile.

"Good day to you...Mr. Chris Wright, please..."

The receptionist smiled, and inquired, "Does Mr. Wright know you, or expect you, sir?"

"Yes, I am Mr. Wright's colleague."

The receptionist kept his smile going, as with the questions.  "I'm sorry sir, I'll need to call Mr. Wright or see some identification."

Lancaster was tired of this haranguing already. "Very well.  Identification."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, placing his birth certificate on the counter.  "This is my birth certificate, and I am His Grace Robert Lancaster II, Duke of Wessex, and this," reaching into his wallet once more, "is a picture of myself with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.  Now...please, direct me to Mr. Wright's room, before I buy this damn place, fire your ass, and have it bulldozed to the ground...please."

The receptionist gulped a nervous swallow. "Yes, of course sir...one moment..."

The Duke sighed and put his things back into his wallet.

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

Dallas, Texas - hotel of Chris "the Thrill" Wright

The sound of knocking on their hotel room door.

Hearing the knock on the door, Chris lifted his head from where it is resting on his girlfriend's stomach to stare suspiciously at the door.

"Who the hell is disturbing us at..." Chris said as he leaned over to look at the clock, "Eleven  in the morning.  After a freaking pay-per-view.  Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away."

With that blissful thought, Chris rolled back over and wrapped his right arm around his girlfriend, dropping his head back onto her stomach.

Again the incessant knocking came and this time Jen reached down and pushed Chris off her.

"Get up Chris.  Throw some clothes on, we better see who it is.  Maybe it's the maids wanting to clean the room." Jen said as she rolled over and dropped her feet onto the floor then ran a hand through her messy hair.  Climbing to her feet she began to search the room for a suitable outfit, finally coming up with a pair of shorts that had started life as a pair of sweatpants.  Looking on the chair, she picked up the white baby tee, and then threw a pair of jeans at Chris who caught them and then slowly began pulling them on.

"This better be good, or I'm gonna be complaining to management," Chris muttered darkly as he buttoned the jeans up.

Once he was suitably dressed in the jeans, Jen wandered over to the door and opening it she was surprised to see Duke Robert Lancaster standing there.

"Oh hello Robert.  Come on in," Jen said as she pulled the door all the way open.

Hearing the name Chris scowled at the door the wall, so when they walked around the corner they would be met with Chris's baleful and sleepy frown.

"Mr. Wright...I'm sorry to interrupt...but we have some urgent business I believe."

The Duke handed Wright a piece of paper, which, on it, was written the announcement for a match  at the next Championship Wrestling: Chris "the Thrill" Wright versus Robert Lancaster II; Number One Contender's Match for the MSWA Smokey Mountain Heritage Championship.

Wright's eyes focused on the page, and grew wide with exclaim reading it over once,  and then again to make sure he read it correctly.

"Sweet Mamma-Jamma.  You and I in the same ring.  No one else.  You think you can handle it?" Chris asked as he looked up from the paper clutched in his left hand.

Catching a glimpse of Jen behind Robert flashing him a frown and pointing at him with her index finger to admonish him to behave himself, he grinned at her.

Robert looked over to the floor, where he found the painting he had specially done, rather damaged, a victim of some of Wright's anger.

"It would seem," Lancaster pointed to the ground, "that you could not handle my little gift.  I do hope you enjoyed it."

Wright was about to rebut the Duke, but was cut off by him.

"Please, let me finish Mr. Wright.  This match, it is not about snide remarks, it is not about unpaid cheques, red wine on shirts or sarcastic gifts...Mr. Wright...this is about our future in this goddamn fed, so please...compose yourself."

Lancaster glared at Chris, attempting to pierce the layer of sarcasm and reach underneath "the Thrill" to his mind and soul.  Wright clearly heard the tone of his voice, and the urgency he spoke with.

Taken aback at what Lancaster said, Chris just stared at him for a moment before he pointed to a chair at the desk and he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What exactly are you talking about, our future in this fed?  I don't know about you, but my future involves winning..." Chris looks at the page in his hand before he continues, "The Smokey Mountain Heritage Title."

Robert continued to stare stoically at Wright as he sat on the chair, as invited.  Lancaster mood was one of frankness.

"Mr. Wright, I could not care less about that title...you can win it, you can win every title there is to win on the planet...and still, I would not care.  Mr. Wright...Chris...look further.  Look at yourself...look away from your reflection in that gold belt and stare at yourself, into the depths of your soul.  You are about more than winning that gold and leather assemblance of shit."

Chris eyebrows pulled down in consternation at Lancaster's words.

'Who the fuck is he to know what is in my soul?' Chris thought to himself as he stared at the Duke, his eyes almost trying to bore a hole through him.

"What the hell are you trying to say Lancaster?  You sound like some two-bit preacher trying to convert me to some new religion.  Sell me your soul, and you will be redeemed."

Lancaster couldn't help but laugh quickly.  "You're more right than you think...it is about redemption.  It is about both of us picking up our feet and running faster and further than either of us ever did.  Tell me something...how did you react to that 'fan letter' I sent, truthfully, when you first read it..."

Chris thought about when he first read the letter, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I've got to admit, it did feel good to get something like that.  It's been about a year and a half since I've been cheered by the crowd, let alone received fan mail.  So what exactly does that have to do with our match this week?"

The Duke did not hesitate to reply.  "It's about redemption still.  Tell me what will we achieve through this cycle of hatred...we will end up devastated, destroyed...competition can bring the best out of any man, or contrarily, the worst.  Unfortunately we have descended down the latter path...it's my desire that we alter course.  And I shall begin that right now."

Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of thirty crisp one hundred dollar bills.  He threw it in front of Wright, landing it right on his lap.  The Duke then stood up and handed the bag he was carrying to Jen.

"And this, my dear, is for you.  Another bottle of the 1947 Château Cheval Blanc we had at Erling Jensen's.  Enjoy it."

Chris stared at Lancaster as he talked, and then he almost fell off the bed as the Duke tossed a bundle of hundred dollar bills in his lap.  And then he just stood up and handed Jen a three thousand dollar bottle of wine.

"What do you want Lancaster?  Tell me the truth." Chris said suspiciously as he looked at the money in his lap like it was a snake ready to bite.  He wasn't one to take bribes to throw a match.  That wasn't his way.  If a person beat him, he beat him fair, not by paying him off.

"What do I want Mr. Wright?"  The Duke sat motionless, emotionless, before he uttered one simple word. "Peace."

Chris looked at Lancaster for a minute and then he threw his head back, a pure laugh roaring from his mouth.  Leaning back too far, Chris overbalanced and flopped backwards on the bed still laughing loudly.

Finally after a few more moments of laughing at what the Duke said, Chris wiped at his eyes and sat up.

"You want peace?  What the hell are you talking about Lancaster.  This is wrestling not some Middle East discussion.  If we had peace, then we wouldn't have a career.  That's the way this business works."

Lancaster was brimming at the edge of fury with Wright's outburst of seeming immaturity.  He sat quiet, thinking, before lifting his head up to respond.

"Oh, well...then, perhaps I should oh, make life miserable for you.  Hire private detectives to follow you around, not give you a moments peace.  Place bugs in your home, in your bedroom, in your locker room.  Have you harassed by banks and credit agencies, because believe me...I can have it all done...on a moment's notice.  After all...business, is business, isn't it?"

"OR...you can shut your goddamn mouth for a moment and listen to reason.  Or...perhaps I should be discussing this with Ms. Connelly instead, if you cannot compose yourself."

Chris's face lost all trace of the humour and he stared daggers at Lancaster.

"You might want to watch who you threaten Lancaster.  Sure you can make my life hell outside of the ring, but I can damn well make your life hell inside the ring.  Your's wouldn't be the first career I ended because I wanted too.  The moment this shit moves outside of the arena then it isn't business anymore.  It's personal."

Jennifer could see that the conversation was degenerating extremely fast, so she moved over and sat down beside Chris patting his leg soothingly trying to get him to calm down, as he implored the Duke with her eyes to calm down as well.

Seeing Jen's expression, the Duke smiled softly at her.  He could not help but be kind to a beautiful woman.

"Fear not my dear...I have no quarrel with you.  But Mr. Wright...now you are learning.  I am discussing the personal, not just a bloody wrestling match.  This is about you Christopher Wright and I Robert James Lancaster.  I want peace on that level.  I want an end to the hatred, not the competition.  Competition is what we crave, but on a higher level."

Chris's mind still seethed at the threat the Duke leveled at him, but he was also somewhat intrigued by what the other man said.

"So your saying what, you want to be friends outside of the ring?  You want to sit down over a beer and some pizza and have a game of poker?" Chris asked, not being able to help himself at the sarcastic nature of the question.  He was still pissed about the threat.

Jen sighed at Chris's words and felt the sudden urge to slap him for being a retard, she could see Robert was trying to reach out to him, and all Chris was doing was being stupid.  She wouldn't even blame the Duke if he got up and slapped the taste out of Chris's mouth.  Oh she would probably try to stop it, but she wouldn't be at all surprised.

Robert tried to decrease the tension level. "Well, I play baccarat in Monte Carlo, but certainly...poker wouldn't be out of the question.  But being friends would only come after the crucial element is achieved, not just merely peace, but respect.  And that is why I propose the following.  If you will hear me out.  This involves your lady, too."

Chris raised an eyebrow, and a slight smile quirked his lip, but Jen slapped him on the inside of the leg dangerously close to his manhood as if she could read his mind about what he was going to say.

"Yes Robert, we'll listen to what you have to say.  Go on." Jennifer said as she squeezed Chris's leg to make sure he behaved himself.  Sometimes it took more than a smack.

"Well.  First, I have arranged a car to pick us up here shortly to drive us to Dallas International Airport, where we will be met by my Lear Jet, which will take us to JFK in New York.  There...we will fly from New York to London, on the Concorde.  Jen, I have arranged Stephanie to meet you in London, where you and her will be able to shop the boutiques of London together with her as long as you like, with no worry about cost."

"As for you Mr. Wright, we will travel to my estate in Wessex.  I will tell you the purpose of our trip once there.  So."  The Duke looked at the couple. "What sayest thou."

Jen was immediately struck with delight at the suggestion.  She would get to shop London with Stephanie showing her the sights.  She'd always wanted to see them.

Chris meanwhile almost groaned out loud.  How the hell would the Duke and Chris co-exist together by themselves.  The two could barely keep themselves civil when the girls were around, let alone by themselves.

Turning to Chris, Jennifer's face lit up and she said excitedly, "Come on Chris.  Let's do it.  You too could use some time to work out your guy problems and I could use some new clothes."

Groaning Chris rubbed his face, "Oh God.  I'm gonna be bankrupt by the time I get back here.  Your going to run me out of money Jen.  Fine we can go.  But Lancaster, are we going to make it back to Memphis in time for our match?  Cause if we don't I will be very upset about missing my opportunity for the chance to go after the Smokey Mountain Heritage Title."

"Our opportunity," corrected Lancaster.  "And Mr. Wright, don't worry about money as I said...it'll be Steph's pleasure to get whatever Jen wants, believe me, she's already insisted on it.  And yes...we'll be back in plenty of time for the 13th...once our business in Wessex is done, you'll be free to leave whenever you wish.  It should not take more than a day or so."

Sighing again Chris knew he had lost the battle.  There was no way he was going to get out of this, and if he managed to squirm out, he'd have to sleep with one eye open the rest of his life.  Jen would deprive him of something important if he didn't.

"Fine.  We'll come with you Lancaster.  But Jen pays for what she wants, we don't take hand-outs from anyone.  As for the match, you and I both know I'm the one with the opportunity since I'm not gonna let you win." Chris said, a half-smile on his face at the last words.

The Duke arose from his chair, having a half-smile himself.  "That, we shall have to see about.  Now.  Let us to London."

Lancaster left their hotel room, allowing them time to prepare, as he went downstairs to the waiting car.  Sighing heavily, he began wondering if he was doing the right thing...but he was convinced he was.  He believed he could reach out to Wright given the time.  A few minutes later, Chris and Jen appeared, luggage in hand.  The chauffeur exited and placed their luggage into the trunk.

Most of the time between Dallas and London was spent with Jen talking to Chris and Robert alternately about varied topics.  Once on board the Concorde, they settled into a comfortable slumber, arriving in London in a mere two hours.

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

London, England - Heathrow International Airport, about 8pm

At Heathrow, they were greeted by Stephanie Erin Lancaster after going through customs.  Seeing Robert, she ran up to him immediately and embraced him,  causing him to drop his carry on bag.  She then went over to Jen, and hugged her warmly.

Jen hugged Stephanie back and said in an excited voice, "I can't wait to see all the shops in London.  You're going to have to show me all the best sights.  I've never been to London before, but everyone says it's beautiful."  Dropping her voice to a whisper so neither of the men can hear she continued, "And I want to talk to you about the boys.  I want to get your opinion on some stuff."

Chris smiled at Stephanie after the two girls stopped hugging and said, "Hello Stephanie, it is good to see you again.  I hope everything is well with you and the baby."

Stephanie reciprocated and shook Chris' hand in a friendly manner.  "Likewise Chris...and yes, he's doing fine...my little boy is growing up so fast."

Robert joked, "That's what she's said about me all these years...at times I think she's still waiting for me to grow up."

The girls giggled, while Chris laughed to himself.  Stephanie was just as excited as Jen was.  "So Jen...shall we leave our little boys here to their business, while we go to see the likes of Ms. Chanel and Mr. Armani?"

"Oh yes let's Steph.  Hopefully the two can at least behave enough not to kill each other.  Although the way they were behaving earlier today, I wouldn't be surprised if they come back to us covered in bruises and cuts from trying to pound the heck out of each other.  But boys will be boys I guess." Jen said as she looked at the two men.

Chris just gave Jen his best innocent look.  He knew it never worked on her, but he thought he'd try it anyways.

"Yes you two girls go have fun.  Don't bankrupt me completely Jen.  Leave me some money so I can buy us some Kraft Dinner for food until the next paycheque." Chris said with a slight smile on his face.

Each individual man kissed their respective ladies good bye for the time being.  It was just Wright and Lancaster now.

"Well Mr. Wright.  Let's go find Simkins, he'll bring us back to my estate.  I'm having dinner cooked...and I told the chef to take your suggestion...pizza and beer."

The two walked towards the parking lot of Heathrow, where Simkins was waiting with a Rolls-Royce.

As the two headed for the parking lot, Chris thought about just what was supposed to happen on this little trip and he thought it might be interesting.

"So Lancaster, just what did you plan on talking to me about?  How do we plan on going about getting each other's respect just by talking?" Chris asked in earnest.

They found Simkins, and entered the car after having their luggage placed in the trunk.  Off they went to Wessex, which wasn't too long a drive away.

"I plan on securing our mutual respect, yes, through talk, but also through many a bottle of scotch, beer, and Cuban cigars...do you smoke cigars at all?" queried the Duke.

"What self-respecting man doesn't?  I never did trust a man who didn't smoke cigars.  So just out of curiosity, how long have you and Stephanie been married for?" Chris said as they rode towards wherever it was they were going.

"Well I have these cigars I got rolled right in Havana itself, personally for me.  Cost a bitch, but I guarantee you...you'll never have any like them, anywhere.  As for being married...just about two years now...it's had it's rough patches, but it was still the best thing I've ever done.  I never loved a woman like I loved her."  Robert smiled.

Chris's eyes took on a wistful look for a few moments before he shook his head and brought his attention back.

"Well a cigar is only as good as what it costs.  It's like good liquor, the more you pay, the better you get." Chris said a slight smile on his face.

Lancaster laughed.  "Shit, you and I would have been best friends by now had you met me a few years ago.  I was a goddamn alcoholic, I spent almost thirty thousand pounds once one year just on cigars and liquor alone.  How Steph put up with me for those years, I'll never know.  Thank God those days are over though.  Finding self-respect can do a great deal for a man Mr. Wright..." Lancaster turned his head to address Wright directly.  "Do you know what I mean."

Chris quirked an eyebrow at the Duke and said,"When you got it, your on top of the world, when you don't, it's a bitch to get.  Kind of like money."

"So what type of stuff do you like to do outside the ring?  Besides throwing wine on a guys suit and getting stupid pictures painted of it?" Chris asked the other man as he turned to stare out the windows at the passing scenery.

"You'll never believe how much that piece of crap cost me to get painted...the German bastard who I got to do it, who's my architect as well, is as fucked up as a hooker on crack.  As for what I like to do...I work out, I invest in various ventures around the world...I gamble, although not as much as I used to...I love cars, and traveling.  And of course, spoiling my wife...but damn, the pay off is good.  But of course, I spend as much time as I can with Edward...he's almost one in about two months.  Hard to believe. It seems just yesterday that I rushed Steph to the hospital so she could give birth.  What a little miracle he is."  It was Lancaster's turn to get wispy eyed.

"I'm not sure if I ever want to have kids.  All that crying, shitting, pissing and puking.  It's like being a designated driver for a bunch of people when they get piss ass drunk at the bar.  And I certainly couldn't handle that for a bunch of years.  So when are we getting there, I'm starving." Chris asked as he turned away from the scenery.

"It may be a lot of crying, shitting, pissing, and puking, but it's worth it all...besides if you don't want kids, Jen will probably bust your balls."

Lancaster leaned forward slightly.  "Simkins, we're almost there I take it?"

"About another minute or so your Grace"

Robert nodded. "I figured as much.  Remind me though, to show you how we shall earn our respect, first thing when we enter..."

Chris smirked and said, "Won't be the first time Jen busts my balls.  And I can guarandamntee it won't be the last.  How exactly does one earn ones, respect by talking?  Doesn't it have to be earned with action?"

Lancaster cast an eye sideways at Chris.  "You're a smart man Mr. Wright."

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

Wessex, England - Ancestral Estate of Robert Lancaster II

They entered the iron gates of Lancaster's Wessex Estate, and pulled up to the main entrance.  Simkins got their bags, and put them in the hallway.  Robert immediately guided Wright to a certain room in the house.  They stood before the door.

"This, Mr. Wright...is how I intend to earn mutual respect."

The Duke opened the door to reveal a fully equipped gym, with every piece of modern exercise equipment imaginable.  And, in the centre of the room, was a full-sized, professional wrestling ring.

"Do come in Mr. Wright," addressed Lancaster, with a grin on his face.

As soon as Chris saw the weight equipment and the ring a smile bloomed on his face.

"I think I might just take you up on that Lancaster.  So what your plan is, is to basically have us beat the living shit out of each other 'till neither of us can stand.  Am I right?" Chris said as he surveyed the room with satisfaction.

The two men walked around, Wright obviously the one exploring the various equipment.

"Not quite how I would put it, but, something along those lines.  Specifically, a match...tomorrow, or the next day, whenever you want.  Full wrestling rules in affect.  Pinfall, submission, count out, disqualification, or referee's decision will end the contest.  Call it a warm-up before Championship Wrestling."

After examining the equipment, Chris gravitated to the thing that attracted his attention when he first came in the room.  The wrestling ring.  As he stopped beside it, he could see it was very well made and a full-size ring.

"So who exactly is going to be a referee?" Chris asked his mind already thinking about the moves that he was going to attempt.

"I could hire someone from London, but believe it or not, I believe Simkins could do the job fine.  But if you're not comfortable with that, then I can get someone else.  But I assure you a fair bout...he wouldn't want to lose his job after so many years working for my family."

Chris looked at the Duke and then back in the ring, hopping up onto the ring apron and then testing the give to the ropes.

"I guess if we're supposed to be trusting each other, I can start with trusting Simkins as a ref.  But he better not do something stupid." Chris said.

"Mr. Wright I can guarantee that you will never meet a wiser, kinder man...except for me of course.  But now.  Dinner awaits.  I'll have Simkins show you your room, and then...we shall dine on the food of kings...pizza."

Wednesday, January 1, 2003

London, England - inside Harrod's Department Store, Downtown London

Jen and Steph walked through the door to Harrod's arm in arm and Jen stopped, stunned by the size of the store.  Immediately a few saleswomen flocked to them, they knew when the Duchess of Wessex walked through the door, a lot of money would be spent.

"Wow this is really big," Jen said breathlessly to Stephanie, who just giggled at Jen's reaction.

"Oh you're going to love it..." said the Duchess, who merely thanked the saleswomen and told them that if they needed help, they would be called upon.

"Especially the lingerie department," whispered Stephanie. "You think Victoria's Secret is good..."

The girls giggled again, anticipating the fun they would have in trying on various pieces.

Jen immediately "ooh'ed" and "ahh'ed" again, this time at the vast selection.

After recovering from seeing the selection of lingerie, Jen immediately zeroed in on a lace teddy.  Picking it up she noticed it was made out of material that stretched, eliciting a smile.

"Oh doesn't this look beautiful.  I think both Chris and Robert would like this.  What do you think Steph?" Jen asked as she held the item up for display to her shopping companion.

Steph's eyes widened, nodding her approval.  "Oh you know we'd both look hot in that..."  Steph looked about for a few seconds.  "As well as in these..." She held up a lavender silk thong.  Jen smiled a naughtyish smile.

The two continued to look about at the various to-die-for pieces, talking casually.  Steph suddenly remembered what Jen had mentioned at Heathrow.

"Oh Jen...I was wondering...what were those few things you mentioned you wanted to discuss?"

Sorting through the other unmentionables, a slow smile started to appear on Jen's face.

"Oh yes, I have an idea I think will help the two boys get along like two peas in a pod.  Well since we're both their escorts as well as their managers, we have the ability to sign them to matches.  What I was thinking we should do is trying and get them signed up in some tag team matches.  Chris and Robert versus various other tag teams.  I know the two of us can convince them that it is in their best interest, both inside and outside the ring if you get my drift.  What do you think of the idea Steph?" Jen said as she held a black silk g-string in her hand.

"I think Robert and Chris would either kill us both or leave us if we ever did that...but perhaps we could arrange something a little closer down the road...specifically, the match against Stratford for that title...perhaps...we could talk the other one into helping the winner...either way...one of our men will be wearing gold in a matter of weeks."

Stephanie smirked a sly smirk...she was not as pure as everyone imagined, at least, not always.  She did not care for Stratford anymore than Robert did.

Jen gave Steph an innocent smile and said, "Oh I don't know.  I'm pretty sure we could make the boys do what we want.  But I think your right.  Baby steps first.  So what your saying is have whoever lose the match help the winner win the Smokey Mountain Heritage Title.  I think that's a good idea, but only if the loser is guaranteed the first shot at the title."

Steph held a matching lavender silk bra up to her chest, peering over at Jen.  "I like the way you think Jen."

Thursday, January 2, 2003

Wessex, England - Ancestral Estate of Robert Lancaster II, in the ring

The time was at hand.  Each man had a few hours to work out and prepare, but the time was at hand.  Each man, garbed in their own wrestling attire, with Simkins, wearing a referee uniform, stood, ready to go.  Neither of their ladies were present; this was something that had to be resolved on their own.

Simkins talked to the men as they stood, face to face.

"Alright gentlemen.  You know the rules...no low blows, no choking, you break on the count of five...I will tolerate no nonsense from either of you, as instructed.  I want a good clean fight. The match will begin when I start the watch, understand?"

Simkins may be a bit elderly, but he knew not to put up with shit when he was in control.  He hit the stop watch, and the match was under way.

At Simkins words, the Duke and the Thrill began to circle each other, feinting with their hands trying to catch their opponent off-guard.  As the two continued to circle each other, Chris Wright lunges forward and catches the Duke with a weak clothesline sending the bigger man back against the ropes.  Chris backs off and the Duke bounces slightly off the rope before the two start to circle again.

Again the two feint at each other, and again Chris lunges for a clothesline, but the Duke ducks it and he hits a back mule kick to Chris’s lower back driving the other man into the ropes.  The Duke backs off and Chris pulls himself off the ropes, and they started circling.

This time the two came together and lock up testing each other’s strength.  Lancaster uses his size and weight advantage to force his smaller opponent into the turnbuckle and Simkins is quickly in to separate the two.  Lancaster holds his hand above his head and backs away with a slight smile on his face.  Wright steps out of the turnbuckle and paces back and forth before he motions for a strength test.

Lancaster stares at him suspiciously for a moment as Wright stands in the middle of the ring with his left hand raised up, until finally Lancaster steps forward and locks his right hand into Wright’s left.  The two men lock their other hands above their head and both begin bearing down.  After a few moments of struggling between the two, Lancaster uses his height advantage to start to bend the smaller man backwards and then he is able to shift his hands down and around in a circle and then start to bear up, causing Wright to go up on his tip toes to ease the pain in his shoulders.  Lancaster releases the hold with another slight smile and Wright backs off shaking his hands.

Again Wright steps into the center of the ring, and again he raises his left hand for a test of strength.  Lancaster looks at him for a moment with a quirked eyebrow and then shrugs at Simkins before stepping up and locking his right hand in with Wright.  Lancaster puts his left hand up and Wright raises his right hand, but before he locks in on Lancaster, he kicks the other man in the stomach and then hits a hard short-arm clothesline.  Following up his advantage, Wright lays the boots to Lancaster and then reaching down he pulls the other man up by his hair.  Wright puts his left arm behind Lancaster’s head and hits a DDT driving the other man’s head into the mat.  Quickly rolling Lancaster over, Wright clambers on for a pin and Simkins drops down to do a count.  The count is broken up at 1, as Lancaster powerfully kicks out.

Wright doesn’t waste energy complaining to the referee, but he quickly climbs to his feet and as Lancaster gets to his knees, he drives his elbow down on the back of Lancaster’s neck.  Lancaster drops to one knee and then Wright pulling him to his feet again.  Grabbing Lancaster’s arm, Wright slings him into the turnbuckle, and follows up with a flying splash.  But Lancaster dodges the move and Wright’s chest connects with the top turnbuckle as the air is blasted from his lungs.  Stumbling backwards, Wright is met with a hard clothesline to the back of the head and he goes down hard.  Lancaster drops a knee onto Wright’s lower back.  Lancaster grabs Wright’s legs and lifting them up, he cinches in a Boston Crab putting the strain on Wright’s lower back.  Wright gives a grunt of pain and immediately clutches the rope, causing Simkins to step in and break the hold.  Simkins forces Lancaster back as Wright slowly climbs to his feet, shaking his left leg to get rid of some of the pain.  Lancaster moves in and hits a blistering chop on Wright’s chest, causing the other man to stand up straight and clutch his chest with his arms.  Again Lancaster hits another chop and a third.  Grabbing Wright’s arm, Lancaster slings him off the far rope and hits a beautiful drop toe hold on Wright.  Lancaster quickly up and he grabs Wright’s left ankle.  Lancaster lifts Wright’s whole body up by the ankle and then slams the knee down into the mat as hard as he can.  Again he does the same thing.  Lancaster back down and he locks in a half-Boston Crab, cinching back on Wright’s left knee.  Wright quickly grabs the ropes and Simkins is in to break the count again.

Lancaster backs off with a smile on his face and Wright uses the ropes to slowly climb to his feet.  This time he paces around the side of the ring, noticeably limping on his left leg.  Lancaster comes rushing across and Wright dodges, grabbing the man by the back of the head and tossing him over the top rope to land with a thud on the mats outside.  Taking advantage of the situation, Wright climbs out onto the apron and when Lancaster gets to his feet, comes down hard with an elbow to Lancaster's face.

A very loud "thud" is audible throughout the room, as Simkins lays the count on them both.  One, two, three...Wright slides back in after throwing a few more boots to Lancaster's head, which, had been busted open from the elbow, which hit squarely in the centre of his forehead, the very point of the elbow inflicting the damage.  Lancaster is dazed, but manages to slide in after Wright at the count of six.  Simkins backs Wright into a corner to examine the Duke's bloodied forehead, but is told that he's fine...after looking closely, the match continues.

They circle once more, Lancaster a bit slower than Wright, the blood clouding his vision to a slight extent.  The Duke goes for a tie up but is met with a knee lift to the sternum, followed by a flury of punches to the head.  Wright then whips Robert into the turnbuckles, where he lands with a thump.  Dazed, Wright follows up with a splash, and then runs the open wound over the ropes, exposing it further, causing more blood to pour out.  Simkins admonishes Wright and warns him that he will disqualify him if he continues so brazenly.

Wright steps back, sensing advantage is at hand, and allows Robert to step back, whose sight is all the more clouded now.  The Duke falls to his knees, and rolls out of the ring, and walks a few steps to the other side of the ring, and rests against the post.  Chris hurries out and seeing Lancaster stunned, runs and attempts a clothesline, but instead, clotheslines the post, causing Wright to yell out in pain.  Robert, hungry now for some semblance of vengeance, took Wright's head and slams it into the post several times, despite Simkin's protest.  Wright falls backwards, blood now spewing out of his forehead as well.  Lancaster tosses Wright back in, his face clenched in determination.

Wright stumbles forward as he reaches his feet, but is taken back down by a bull dog, splattering his fresh blood around the canvas.  The Duke leans forward with a front facelock for about a minute afterwards, before Wright somehow gets to his feet and backdrops Robert.  Wright falls onto his back, panting heavily, obviously feeling the effects of the lost blood.  Both men remained on their backs, almost motionless, exhausted.

Simkins had seen enough.  Both men had lost quite a bit of blood, and he stopped the watch.  Both men lay on the now blood stained canvas, nearly unconscious.  Simkins yelled: "At the discretion of the referee, this match has been stopped...the result, no contest."

Simkins then got to work by helping the two men up to their feet, until they could support themselves on the ropes.  Both were panting heavily, crimson strewn across their faces.  Robert looked up to his opponent, who stood, with his head down.  Walking on rubber legs, the Duke struggled across the ring, and stood in front of Wright, who lifted his head to meet the Duke eye to eye.

Lancaster coughed a bloody laugh, and forced a few words out of his mouth: "In Memphis..." referring to their upcoming bout, "...it will be...a time...a time for...war."

Chris' eyes remained transfixed on Lancaster. "War..."

Mutual respect was won.