Subversion?
I: Sunday, February 20, 2005: Wessex,
England: Lancastrian Ancestral Estate; and Phoenix, AZ
With Christenson quickly
approaching on the horizon, and along with him the prospect of the
Match Beyond, Robert Lancaster's plate is more than full. The
matches he may encounter may prove to be the most critical of his
career.
But even the prospect of competing for the CAL Heavyweight Championship of the World nearly pales to another matter crowding his plate.
That matter being Seamus Finnegan.
Not immediate; but not forgotten.
He knows he'll come back. He has to. Seamus Finnegan is not one to forget or let things go by the wayside. He will return, for revenge, and will do so with a vengeance.
Lancaster knows it. He anticipates it. He knows that his brutal assault left more than physical scars on the Irish Assassin. The emotional, psychological impact was tremendous. It had to have been, thus Lancaster thinks to himself.
Until that time, he would take every opportunity to inflict more punishment, more damage to his enemy, to that traitorous, treasonous bastard who turned his back on his long time partner.
And from before, he would use indirect means to attack. Yet the indirect means is perhaps the most direct means of all. Through his wife. Through Rebecca Donnelly Finnegan.
The soldier of choice; Marissah Whitely, fiancée of the Duke of Wessex.
And the weapon? Why, simplicity itself. The telephone.
Sitting in one of the handsomely appointed sitting rooms in the large ancestral estate of the Lancastrians in Wessex is the future duchess. She sits in a black skirt and high heels, with a casual red tank top. She slowly sips a glass of Hine cognac, which bites and cuts through her like a fiery knife. She gives a small moan of delight, and licks her lips.
To work. And to war now.
She picks up her cell phone, and awaits an answer from her target, half a world away, in Phoenix.
She responds.
"Hello?"
"Hello my Irish sweetie it's Marissah!" she chirps cheerfully. She carefully tries to set the tone of the conversation.
A slight hint of hesitancy in her voice, but none the less, she replies, "Oh...hi Marissah, this is unexpected. How are you?"
"Oh I'm okay thanks hun! It's awful over here though, pissing rain! I suppose that's one aspect about the UK you don't miss too much! How are you?"
"Aye, well it's been raining here in Phoenix for the last few days as well - go figure, in the desert! I'm doing grand, actually - I just put Nathaniel down to rest. Seamus has been resting as well, actually...recovering from his morning workout...men, aye? Always resting!"
Marissah giggles. "Robert's like that always, especially after a few drinks, and then he gets all frisky as usual - I keep telling him not until we're married! But what's a girl to do! But anyway, it's been so long! How are you enjoying the perfume, by the way? I'm still so pleased you liked it!"
Warmly, Rebecca replies, "Aye, it was so generous of you to do that for me! I'm enjoying it...Seamus even more so! To tell you the truth, Marissah, it's made him a little...frisky as well!" Rebecca giggles as well.
Marissah rolls her eyes but continues the façade. "Oh my well if I knew it'd have that effect I'd have bought two bottles for you! But anyway hun...how's Seamus doing anyway? Is he over his concussion? The poor thing..." she feigns concern.
"Oh, he's recovered quite nicely, actually. In fact, as I mentioned he's been doing a lot of training lately."
Marissah takes extra note and narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Aww..." she takes a dip sip of cognac. "That's great to hear. I hope he'll be 100% again soon. But boy if he comes back, he'll find things have changed in OLW! So many new signings! And there's that big pay-per-view coming up...have you or Seamus heard about it? Reindeer Games?"
She nods to herself. "Aye, he's been keeping on top of things, all right - but to be quite honest, I think he's been paying a wee bit more attention to all this National Hockey League nonsense that's been going on, lately." Rebecca holds back, as if she were a gambler not wanting to reveal all her cards, with as good a poker face as has ever been seen on the faces of the finest gamblers in Las Vegas.
Shit. "Robert's not too into all that hockey stuff...he's been so busy and all preparing for that pay-per-view. I'm so pleased for him. He's in the main event you know," she boasts. Not entirely accurate, seeing as he would have to get through Christenson to get there.
Rebecca sees right through her words. "Aye, that's most impressive, although I thought he had to beat someone else first...Christenson, wasn't it?"
Bitch. Marissah giggles disingenuously. "Oh right, him. Well I have every confidence in my man. That's what I like bout the both of us. We're so devoted and loving. Makes me even happier to have you as a friend."
She nods again. "Aye, I'm sure you are, as I'm sure you do have every confidence...you should, after all, considering everything he's accomplished in the business."
That's better. "Aww you're such a sweetie. But hey! Tell me something. I had this really great idea, but I was wondering first how your schedule is looking like for the next week or so."
But even the prospect of competing for the CAL Heavyweight Championship of the World nearly pales to another matter crowding his plate.
That matter being Seamus Finnegan.
Not immediate; but not forgotten.
He knows he'll come back. He has to. Seamus Finnegan is not one to forget or let things go by the wayside. He will return, for revenge, and will do so with a vengeance.
Lancaster knows it. He anticipates it. He knows that his brutal assault left more than physical scars on the Irish Assassin. The emotional, psychological impact was tremendous. It had to have been, thus Lancaster thinks to himself.
Until that time, he would take every opportunity to inflict more punishment, more damage to his enemy, to that traitorous, treasonous bastard who turned his back on his long time partner.
And from before, he would use indirect means to attack. Yet the indirect means is perhaps the most direct means of all. Through his wife. Through Rebecca Donnelly Finnegan.
The soldier of choice; Marissah Whitely, fiancée of the Duke of Wessex.
And the weapon? Why, simplicity itself. The telephone.
Sitting in one of the handsomely appointed sitting rooms in the large ancestral estate of the Lancastrians in Wessex is the future duchess. She sits in a black skirt and high heels, with a casual red tank top. She slowly sips a glass of Hine cognac, which bites and cuts through her like a fiery knife. She gives a small moan of delight, and licks her lips.
To work. And to war now.
She picks up her cell phone, and awaits an answer from her target, half a world away, in Phoenix.
She responds.
"Hello?"
"Hello my Irish sweetie it's Marissah!" she chirps cheerfully. She carefully tries to set the tone of the conversation.
A slight hint of hesitancy in her voice, but none the less, she replies, "Oh...hi Marissah, this is unexpected. How are you?"
"Oh I'm okay thanks hun! It's awful over here though, pissing rain! I suppose that's one aspect about the UK you don't miss too much! How are you?"
"Aye, well it's been raining here in Phoenix for the last few days as well - go figure, in the desert! I'm doing grand, actually - I just put Nathaniel down to rest. Seamus has been resting as well, actually...recovering from his morning workout...men, aye? Always resting!"
Marissah giggles. "Robert's like that always, especially after a few drinks, and then he gets all frisky as usual - I keep telling him not until we're married! But what's a girl to do! But anyway, it's been so long! How are you enjoying the perfume, by the way? I'm still so pleased you liked it!"
Warmly, Rebecca replies, "Aye, it was so generous of you to do that for me! I'm enjoying it...Seamus even more so! To tell you the truth, Marissah, it's made him a little...frisky as well!" Rebecca giggles as well.
Marissah rolls her eyes but continues the façade. "Oh my well if I knew it'd have that effect I'd have bought two bottles for you! But anyway hun...how's Seamus doing anyway? Is he over his concussion? The poor thing..." she feigns concern.
"Oh, he's recovered quite nicely, actually. In fact, as I mentioned he's been doing a lot of training lately."
Marissah takes extra note and narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Aww..." she takes a dip sip of cognac. "That's great to hear. I hope he'll be 100% again soon. But boy if he comes back, he'll find things have changed in OLW! So many new signings! And there's that big pay-per-view coming up...have you or Seamus heard about it? Reindeer Games?"
She nods to herself. "Aye, he's been keeping on top of things, all right - but to be quite honest, I think he's been paying a wee bit more attention to all this National Hockey League nonsense that's been going on, lately." Rebecca holds back, as if she were a gambler not wanting to reveal all her cards, with as good a poker face as has ever been seen on the faces of the finest gamblers in Las Vegas.
Shit. "Robert's not too into all that hockey stuff...he's been so busy and all preparing for that pay-per-view. I'm so pleased for him. He's in the main event you know," she boasts. Not entirely accurate, seeing as he would have to get through Christenson to get there.
Rebecca sees right through her words. "Aye, that's most impressive, although I thought he had to beat someone else first...Christenson, wasn't it?"
Bitch. Marissah giggles disingenuously. "Oh right, him. Well I have every confidence in my man. That's what I like bout the both of us. We're so devoted and loving. Makes me even happier to have you as a friend."
She nods again. "Aye, I'm sure you are, as I'm sure you do have every confidence...you should, after all, considering everything he's accomplished in the business."
That's better. "Aww you're such a sweetie. But hey! Tell me something. I had this really great idea, but I was wondering first how your schedule is looking like for the next week or so."
Her sense of hesitancy overwhelms her, "Ummm...well, I...I don't know, to be quite honest. I'd have to check with Seamus, actually...you know how it is, aye?"
"Aw come on babe...we'll be coming back to the United States soon, and I'll have some free time! I wanted to fly you to New York City with me so we could do some shopping! With the wedding coming up soon, I could use another woman's opinion!"
She shakes her head. "Aye, I know ye would, but...but...I can't, Marissah...I just can't get away, even for a few days...ye see...Seamus and I, we're working on some more...'family planning', so to speak...I do hope you understand. It's nothing against you, honest."
Marissah bites her lip. "It wouldn't even have to be for a few days, just a day, I mean...I could fly you there and back in no time at all...besides if you came, everything would be on me...well on Robert, seeing as I have his Diner's Club...come on hun you'll love it! I bet you've never shopped Fifth Avenue!"
Likewise, Rebecca bit her lip as well, trying to figure out a suitable way to get out of this predicament. "Oh, there's another call coming through on call waiting, Marissah - it's long distance, so it might be my parents calling from Ireland...I have to take this."
Marissah could sense that she was on to her. And she knew she was lying, she didn't hear the quick silent moments indicating a call waiting. Fine, fuck you, she thinks. She got what she wanted anyway. "Well babe, I'm disappointed, but I understand. But please, I miss talking to you, give me a call anytime! Say hi to Seamus for me if you want, and give your little baby a kiss for me. Love ya!"
Marissah switched off her cell phone with disdain, cursing under her breath. She slipped the rest of the cognac into her mouth and sighed. But whatever.
Mission...accomplished.
Somewhat.
Across the ocean things were evolving differently:
Becca hangs up the phone; little did she know, Seamus had already entered the room from behind. "Who was that, love?"
Rebecca turns around, startled, and stammers, knowing what damage the truth might do. "Nobody important, love...telemarketers."
"Aye, is that so?" Seamus replies with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Aye, telemarketers - I got rid of them...ye know how they are, always botherin' ye at home and all that?"
Seamus nods. "Aye...so ye got rid of them, then?"
Suddenly, a cry from upstairs indicated that their son, Nathaniel Owen, was awake.
"I'll see to him, love." Seamus decides.
"No, it's ok...I'l do it." Rebecca answers, obviously needing a distraction to take her mind off of what had just transpired moments ago.
Seamus waited until she had ascended the staircase to check the call display, to confirm what he had suspected...it was no telemarketer who had just called.
The name on the call display? "Whitely, M."
"Jesus Christ." was all that Seamus could say...that bastard's woman, nay, whore...calling his wife at home?
Why? What for?
It didn't matter. He knew what he had to do...he picked up the receiver, and called her back.
Back in Wessex. Marissah helps herself to a little more cognac, as she notes her phone ringing. It was Rebecca's number. Perhaps she's reconsidered? She answers cheerfully, hopefully.
"Hey babe did you change your mind about our lil excursion?"
Seamus laughs. "That's different...usually most people I know usually say hello and ask who it is before continuing the conversation...ye know who this is, aye?"
Marissah's eyes widen in horror. She turns to stone, something she never ever does, knowing full well who it is. But she knows she is, in a word, fucked.
"My wife said she had a long distance call comin' through on the other line...'telemarketers', so they were...but ye know how it is, aye? Those bastards...always bein' a nuisance an' callin' ye at home, aye?"
She still cannot find words.
"I want ye to give yer man a message from me, an' I want ye to get yerself a pen and paper, because I want ye to deliver this message to the bastard, word fer feckin' word, ye understand me?"
Her voice trembles. "You...son of...a..."
Seamus cuts her off.
"I want ye to tell him from me...the end is coming, whether he wants it or not...an' no deals he's made wi'the devil will save his goddamned soul from what's comin' to him...ye tell him that from me...now run along, Marissah...I'm sure yer probably busy, gettin' yer man ready for Christenson, so I'm sure ye don't want to waste any more time talkin' to me...[sternly] or my wife."
He hangs up the phone, deeply satisfied with what had just transpired. For every transgression the former Lancaster had committed towards the Irish Lucifer, he soon would repay...with interest.
Marissah sits blankly, her jaw slightly ajar. Her fiancé enters the room, curious as to how her little chat with Rebecca went.
He sees more in her eyes than words could express.
He walks forward quickly and takes her to his arms, as her glass shatters on the ground. She closes her eyes as the Duke's mind explodes.
He whispers to her ear. "The son of a bitch is ours. They will all be ours."