I Ran so Far Away

Monday, December 2, 2002.

Memphis, Tennessee - Jack Lynch Theater gymnasium

The gym was bristling with various superstars and wannabe's who dreamed of wrestling stardom despite the early hour of 8 am.

The Duke of Wessex was among the numbers.  His face grimaced as he bench pressed a considerable amount.  Considering the size of some of the competitors in his upcoming match - Johnny Five and Jeremiah Blackwell in particular - he knew building extra strength would not hurt whatsoever.

Lancaster finished his reps and placed the bar back on its grips, thanking the young person who spotted him.  Robert wiped the sweat from his brow and cleaned the equipment.

Wearing a Civil War t-shirt, again back from the days of the WWA and black tear-aways, the Duke walked over to the freeweights.  Just as he was bout to reach down and take a pair, they were snatched away by a very brawny looking gentlemen who looked to be in his late thirties, standing about 6'5" or so.  The Duke frowned, then laughed to himself, walking to where the guy was about to begin his reps.

"Pardon me...mind if I use those quickly, I was about to...I won't be long, I'm just finishing off."

The man, he too laughed to himself, and looked down at the Duke, a look of contempt obvious in his expression.

"Fuck off, English bastard."

Lancaster's eyes widened in extreme anger.  Had he been the man he once was, he would have ducked around and grabbed the man by his neck, and threaten to break it.  Lancaster resisted, lowering his head and closing his eyes quickly.

"There's no need..." But he did not feel the need, or desire to finish his thought.  The Duke turned around, picked up his things and headed towards the locker room, overhearing a few snide comments and muffled snickers.

Lancaster muttered various expletives under his breath, and did not stop to even change or shower.  His Jaguar was his refuge, and he sighed a long, deep sigh as he revved up the engine of his Jag, and headed out onto the road back towards his new condo.

The Duke lowered his window and switched on his CD player, which currently had an 80's hits CD.  The first track was a tune that struck a chord with the Duke at that particular moment.  Lancaster turned the volume higher as the group sang...

Lancaster frowned as the group continued their song, repeating those words over and over.  In a somewhat neurotic decision, Lancaster hit the "repeat" button on the player.  The song upset him, yet he wanted to hear it over and over.

The Duke immersed himself in thought, and came to, just as he passed his turn for the street with his condo.

"SHIT." Robert slammed his hand on the steering wheel, and continued along until he saw a turn off for the Interstate.  Feeling directionless and in no hurry to get anywhere, he placed his Jag into a higher gear and got onto the Interstate, reaching speeds of 100 mph, passing every car on the road.

Driving aimlessly and not knowing at all which direction he was headed or where to, Robert incessantly heard the voice of slander of that bastard from the gym - the contempt, the total lack of respect was maddening - and he obviously knew who Robert was.

The Duke doubted that any other former multi-time champion would be treated like that.  His prior reputation seemed to stalk him at every turn, despite efforts to purge it from existence.  The drunken, alcoholic aristocratic snob was not dead.

What angered him most was the complete lack of respect, and near hatred.  Even in the walls of the MSWA locker room, the Duke had received many sneers and foul looks - acceptance was not his right.

This concerned him greatly and frustrated him too at the same time, especially when he reflected on his upcoming match at Championship Wrestling.

Could he trust his teammates; would they even value his presence or contribution; would they even tag him in; would they abandon him or turn on him.

So many troubles, so many thoughts, so many questions plagued him.

Lancaster pressed down on the accelerator faster, almost as if the faster he went the further the issues would go...unfortunately it did not work that way, and he knew it - but he cared not.

What the hell was he doing back in wrestling, he thought.  Was this what he gave up his multinational corporation for, was this what he dragged his family across the fucking Atlantic Ocean away from his home in Wessex for, was this what he was getting for relocating in Memphis to a regional wrestling promotion.

"I could buy and sell all their asses along with the whole fucking MSWA and CAL and drive it all into the fucking GROUND," Lancaster yelled to nobody, save the wind and the sky.

The Duke's frustration level peaked.  He reached towards the gearshift and picked up his cell, and called up his Lear Jet pilot.  After several rings, a voice appeared on the other end, that of Captain Steven Wilcox.

"It's me...I want my Lear ready as soon as it can be...four hours? I want it sooner, dammit...alright, fine, I don't care, I don't care who you have to get, or how much it costs, get my FUCKING PLANE ready as soon as you can."

Robert closed his cell with a loud "snap," and activated his On-Star system, seeking directions towards Memphis International Airport.  After a moment,  the Duke pulled over to the side of the Interstate, pulled a u-turn, and sped up in the opposite direction, heading back to the city centre of Memphis.

On the way, Lancaster again picked up his cell and reached Rick Monroe's answering service.

"Hello Rick, this is Robert Lancaster...I'm going home to Wessex...I'll be back for Championship Wrestling, if you have any questions, call my cell."

Wessex, England - inn near the grounds of the Lancaster Ancestral Estate

Many hours later the Duke's Lear Jet touched down at London Heathrow Airport, where Robert grabbed an airport limo which whisked him to the small inn which lay just outside the grounds of his Wessex estate.

It was now past midnight, and Lancaster was jet lagged completely, but the thirst for liquor did not subside since the moment he left the gym in Jack Lynch's Theater in Memphis.  The Duke tipped the limo driver and took with him his gym bag, still wearing the same clothes from that morning.

Robert entered, to find the inn relatively empty save for the few usuals he was accustomed to seeing.  The innkeeper smiled widely as he saw him enter, having not seen him in several weeks.

"Auch Robert it's grand to see you!! It's been weeks, almost months!! Sit down what will ye have!"

The innkeeper, who was in his mid fifties with slightly balding grey hair, standing about 5'9", stood behind his bar and awaited Lancaster's order.

"J&B, double, on the rocks."

Lancaster stood and leaned against the finely polished surface, and was handed his J&B, which he devoured in one second.  The Duke placed his glass down firmly, looking off into space.

"Again."

The innkeeper, who had known the Duke for several years, furrowed his brow.

"Are you alright sir?"

Lancaster turned his head and looked directly at the innkeeper, and repeated himself, forcefully.

"Again."

The innkeeper did as he was told, and poured another double of J&B on the rocks, which vanished as quickly as the first.  Lancaster opened his wallet, and swore, realizing he had no British currency.

"You take American dollars?"

The man, still looking concerned, nodded nervously.

"Well, of course your Grace, but..."

Before he could finish, the Duke had thrown a $50 bill, instructing him to "keep it."  The Duke exited, bag over his shoulder, and walked the mile or so back to his estate.

As he walked, he looked at the deep night sky, which was a blanket of stars.  How he had missed it, not having such a luxury in Memphis.

Lancaster reached the solid wrought iron gate, and buzzed, waiting for Simkins.  A minute later, he got an answer.

"Yes...who is it?"

"Simkins it's me, open the gate."

An audible gasp of surprise was heard.

"Your Grace!! Just a moment, please!"

The gate swung open slowly,  and the Duke headed towards the entrance, where the door was opened by Simkins, who took Robert's bag.

"Your Grace..."

"Robert," corrected the Duke.

"...we were not expecting you!  Shall I go up and tell Her Grace that you are here? And would you like anything?"

The Duke looked towards the staircase that lead upstairs to his room, shaking his head.

"No, that's fine, I'll go see her now."

He headed upstairs and first checked on his baby boy, who was fast asleep, and then went to his room, where his wife too was sleeping soundly.  He walked over to the bed, and sat on the edge of it, stirring the Duchess of Wessex immediately.  She switched on a light, and looked over, in amazement.

"ROBERT!" She nearly screamed, as she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him fully on the lips, passionately and deeply.

"I need to talk to you about my career..."

She looked somewhat confusingly at him.

"I thought you were preparing for your next match in Memphis, what are you doing here, off running..."