Thursday, May 19, 2007, Belfast, Northern Ireland
"What do you
mean they didn't get tickets. What the hell's going on over
there."
His Jaguar laboured at a red signal; the colour to match his temperment
at that moment.
"This is a huge pay-per-view,
and you're telling me that some screw-up at the office forgot to get
those two bastards and dear, sweet Heidi plane tickets? We wanted
MAXIMUM OLW exposure at this thing, and now you're telling me it may be
too damn late to do anything about it?"
He slammed the steering wheel as the signal turned. He motored
forward at a quickened pace.
"Can't someone get some tickets
on a late flight, or hell, get my bloody Lear...shit it's the shop, forget it. All
right, forget it, we're fucked, it's too late, the PPV is tomorrow, and
SOMEONE'S head is going to roll back in Maryland by the time I get back
there. Cheers, love."
He tossed his mobile to the seat as he turned down a road which lead
him to his destination.
He wanted to go in there with a clear head, but now hearing that Dawn,
Adam Delicious, and Heidi were not to be at the pay-per-view because of
some clerical goof back in the States, only served to cloud his mind
with anger.
He pulled up in front of his destination, and parked.
He took one look at it, and his feelings instantaneously changed.
It's only a pub.
But one that holds a
great deal of significance and has seen a great deal of history for its
patrons, and Belfast itself.
WfWA International
Wars was coming near, and the Duke did not traverse to Northern Ireland
too
frequently, so now was as good a time as any to attempt what he felt
might be
nearly impossible.
Reconciliation.
It literally has been
ages, and he is on unfriendly territory now - it wasn't always this way.
He was once welcomed
in that place, with O'Leary the bartender smiling happily, always glad
to see
the Englishman.
Enough bullshit
though. This stalling and over analysis
is only killing his momentum.
The door opens, and he
was again greeted by that familiar smell of fried food and Guinness.
And the one he
expected to be there, was, in his usual bar stool, chatting casually to
O'Leary, who does not seem to have aged one bit since he last laid eyes
on him.
Lancaster took a few
steps, the echoing of his shoes on the wooden floor drawing both men's
eyes up
towards him.
O'Leary sneered, while
the one he came for - Seamus Finnegan - stared at him with murderous
intent. Lancaster said nothing, showed
nothing on his
face.
"Well well...look
what Hell spat out."
"Aye look indeed
lad, should we kick the shit out of this backstard and send him back to
England?" O'Leary, though old,
still appeared menacing, grizzled, and determined.
Seamus merely held a
hand up at him, telling O'Leary to call off the wolves.
The Duke wasn't
surprised, but found himself short on words.
"I was in Hell.
For years I was in Hell. But I've
escaped."
Seamus raised an
eyebrow. "Aye, have ye now?"
He smashed his fist on the bar and
stared the same familiar cold, evil stare seen many times before. "And how
is that?"
"Surely you know
what I've just been through," he offered.
"She is dead. She
is
gone."
Suddenly the anger
disappeared from his face, as he lowered his head. "Aye lad...aye, I did
hear."
"Good
riddance," Robert declared.
"The bitch ruined me
nearly.
And drove a wedge between myself and my team mate, and my friend.
But I didn't come here to expect
forgiveness. It's been a long
time."
"Aye...indeed...some
things are hard to forget...the war we waged...the scars we left on
each
other...physically...emotionally..."
"Like bringing
out that bitch Rebecca to spite you," the Duke laughed just
slightly, not
wanting to stir any more hatred which he knew lingered inside the
Irishman.
"You're a good
man Seamus. You always have been.
What I became I cannot
explain why I did - it wasn't all her doing.
And I cannot and will not hold you accountable if you choose to
loathe
me to the end of your days."
Seamus stared down at
the bar for a long moment, then looked up at O'Leary. "O'Leary...two
glasses, Johnnie Walker Black Label."
O'Leary poured the two
glasses, and placed them in front of Seamus. Seamus handed one to his
former
tag team partner.
"If there's one
thing I've learned...the hard way...ye know, when my Da' passed
away...life's
too short...ye know?"
Lancaster sat next to
Seamus and nodded his head, taking the glass.
"Thanks lad…and
aye, I do know. I'm rediscovering life
outside of the ring again, despite being OLW Commissioner still. Retirement holds many things for me. And one of the most important things was to
make amends for my sins. Slainte, lad."
He raised his glass to
Finnegan.
"Aye...slainte.
So, retirement aye?
"I imagine you
felt the same way shortly after BWWa closed, having been Heavyweight
Champion
there. You did all you could in the
sport, and yer injuries of course didn't help.
Same with me, for the most part.
I did all I could. I was champion
for almost a year, and having fought so bloody long to reach the top;
the time
was right. And God Almighty look at
me…I'm almost forty."
Seamus nodded.
"Aye, just turned 41 myself...I
know exactly how ye feel lad...well,
actually, I suppose that's not entirely true, I mean...yer the one that
took me
to hell and back in the final match o'my career, so technically
speakin', I
guess I can't say that!" Seamus laughed.
Lancaster nearly felt guilty
for having won that final match, but he was inwardly glad that he had
faced
Seamus, and not any other son of a bitch.
Their bond, even in hatred, was strong.
"I suppose
so. But as I said I'm not totally out of
it, being Commissioner. I'm actually in
town for an event."
"Aye, I heard
lad…sounds like a great show."
"It will be.
But enough of me. The years between
us leaves you a lot of
filling in to do, about what's been going on…have you not felt the ring
calling
back at all?"
Seamus shook his head.
"Nay lad...that time for me has
come and gone...I don't know how much more
my body could withstand after everything it's been through."
"This is
clichéd
to hell and back lad. What about the
fans. The adrenaline. You could walk in and take the OLW
Title." Lancaster nudges him. "Wouldn't
that be fun?"
Seamus thought for a
moment. "Who's the champion now?"
"Cole
Christenson. Talented son of a bitch,
but still a son of a bitch nonetheless," Lancaster grinned. He may be reformed, but he hadn't lost all of
his biases quite yet.
Seamus nodded.
"Aye, Cole...I remember the name
well...the bastard..." A sadistic
grin formed on his face, one all too-familiar. "Aye, now that ye mention
it...it WOULD be fun."
"Picture it
now…'Here is your winner…and NEW OLW Champion…' as Commissioner Robert
Lancaster celebrates on the outside…'Seamus Finnegannnnnnnn!' And the fans go fucking nuts."
The Duke winked and
sipped the rest of his scotch, O'Leary, now looking more passive,
smiled and
filled the glass up again without even being asked.
Seamus stared upward
at the old BWWa Title belt that sat in a display case above the bar. He
closed
his eyes...he heard the ringing in his ears...that old familiar
ring...the
crowd...the bell...the crowd...the steel chair against his skull...the
crowd...the crowd...
He opened his eyes.
"Nay, that time
has passed, lad. Time to move on!"
Lancaster laughed and
threw his hands up in the air, slapping Seamus on the back.
"Damn you, now
I'll have to pray for someone else to whip his ass.
But aye lad, my time is passed too. And
besides, we both have wee ones that are
quickly growing up. Eddy just turned
FIVE if you can believe it in March."
Seamus nodded in agreement. "Aye, wee
Nathaniel's turning four himself...startin' school soon...apparently
he's got a
wee bit of his da' in him, according to his day care...much to the
chagrin
o'his mother."
"Glad to hear it,
it'll be the making of him. Gotta get
those two together so we can ensure that Whiskey Devils II will bring
their old
men glory anew down the road whilst we sit in the OAP home
hallucinating."
"Aye, I'll drink
to that!"
The two downed their
drinks. Lancaster knew he had to take
off shortly, so thought he had better ask.
"Listen lad.
I have a favour to ask of you. Thane
has already agreed to, and if you
aren't busy at that time, I'd humbly ask you to say 'yes' as well."
Seamus raised an
eyebrow. The mere mention of Thane piqued his interest. "Aye...I'm
listening."
"I won't tell you
what it is here and now, but all I'll say is that I am having a black
tie event
at the Estate on June 27th, and your presence is, as I noted, humbly
requested. It's a bit of a favour."
Robert knew asking a
man he had not spoken to in years, and who likely hated him only 15
minutes ago,
for a favour, was pushing it. But
without risk, what is life.
Seamus downed the rest
of his whiskey, and stared into his empty glass for a moment, before
looking
back up. "Aye...go on then."
The Duke patted him on the back.
"I promise a lovely time
will be had by
all, and as much scotch as you can handle as well. It really
means a lot to me. And believe me when I say, you'll be helping
me seal the doors of Hell once and for all.
Thank you, Seamus."
Seamus nodded. "Nay,
lad...thank you."
Lancaster paid O'Leary, and shook his hand,
leaving a £50 note on the bar.
"Lad, yer
welcome back anytime
now. It's good to have you back,"
O'Leary declared.
"Thank
you.
Both.
God bless. We'll be in
touch."
Lancaster waved and left the pub, having to
see to OLW affairs for the upcoming show.
As he left, both O'Leary and Seamus looked
at each other in surprise.
O'Leary leaned over. "Do ye really think he's changed?"
Seamus shrugged his shoulders. "Nay
clue, lad...nay clue."