Carpe Diem - Seizing the Day

Lord Blackwing's New England Residence, Monday 14th March 2011

Lord Blackwing is seated at a white lacquered ironwork table in the gardens of his mansion, somewhere in the Massachusets countryside. He is reading a copy of The Times newspaper and occasionally sipping tea from a white patterned China cup that is placed on the table. It is early afternoon and the first signs of spring are around. The leaves are beginning to show on the trees and the birds are singing. A gentle breeze blows the branches of the trees slightly.

After a moment, Blackwing's butler, Cockfoster, appears. At first Blackwing doesn't notice, or at least, pretends not to notice that the butler is there, but after a short, but deliberate, cough by Cockfoster, Blackwing turns around. He notices that Cockfoster is carrying a silver tray with an old style telephone on it.

Cockfoster: Telephone, for you, sir. It is Duke Reginald.

LB: Ah, thank you, Cockfoster.

Blackwing lifts the receiver from the plate and puts it to his ear.

LB: Reggie my boy, what's the latest?

DR: Well, since phase one of the plan went so swimmingly last night, I decided to take the bull by the horns and crack on with the second phase. I've instructed the boys to carry out their assigned tasks.

LB: Excellent intiative, Reggie. It did all go rather well the other night, didn't it?

DR: A perfectly executed stratagem, my Lord. The damn fools never saw it coming. Who would have thought that a Canadian would be willing to work with us?

LB: Exactly. The beauty was in the simplicity.

DR: It's a wonder Her Majesty doesn't appoint you to the War Council, with such a fine strategic mind as yours. Britain would never go defeated again!

LB: Quite.

DR: Anyway, my Lord, I must be off. Duty calls and all that.

LB: I understand. And remember Reggie, try and be subtle about it.

DR: A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat, eh?

LB: Indeed. Goodbye, Duke Reginald.

DR: Goodbye, Lord Blackwing.

Lord Blackwing replaces the receiver, and Cockfoster turns around and takes the phone back in to the house.

LB: This is all coming together

---

The scene cuts to Sir Ian Blackwing sitting in the front seat of a Rolls Royce. He is sipping from a flask of tea and occasionally lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes, before writing a note on a pad of paper with exquisite handwriting. The camera zooms in and we can see that he is watching Chuck Matthews off in the distance. Ian lifts up the binoculars once again.

SI: Interesting...

Chuck can be seen playing fetch with his dog. He is lying on a sun-lounger with his sunglasses on and a drink in one hand, simply throwing the ball and then wrestling it from the dog's mouth when he returns it. He repeats this process several times, as Ian looks on intently through his binoculars. The scene cuts to Chuck's perspective.

Chuck Matthews: Man, that Rolls sure has been there a long time, I wonder who that is.

Chuck rummages about underneath the sun lounger and pulls up a pair of binoculars of his own. He puts them to his eyes and focuses on the car. He spots Sir Ian and waves. The scene cuts back to the inside of the Rolls Royce.

SI: Blast! He has seen me. I must away!

Sir Ian drops the pad of paper and binoculars and starts the engine, speeding off quickly in to the distance. The scene cuts back to Chuck.

Chuck Matthews: That looked like Lord Blackwing's son. I wonder what he was looking at...

---

We now see William Darlington walking in to a gym. He sits himself down on an exercise bike and scans the room briefly, before he spots his target, Chris Matthews. Chris can be seen through a glass window, in a small room, engaged in judo training. He is wearing full judo robes, including his black belt and is fighting a man around the same size as him, and giving him a bit of a beating.

WD: Hmm, it seems that Chris Matthews might be a tough nut to crack. Interesting.

Chris can be seen throwing the man hard to the ground.

WD: I might have to recommend to Lord Blackwing that we pursue another line of inquiry on this one. I don't believe we will be able to work on Christopher Matthews at all.

---

Next, we cut to the exterior of a school. A man in a trenchcoat and wide brimmed hat that covers his face can be seen leaning against an advertising board on the side of the road. A group of kids come out of the school, talking and joking together. They all say goodbye and go their separate ways. One of them is Zack Matthews. He walks off in the direction of a big black SUV, and gets in, being driven off quickly. The man lifts up his head to reveal that under the hat was Duke Reginald Churchill.

DR: Very intriguing. There is but a small interval of thirty seconds or so between Zachary leaving the school and his being accompanied by someone back to the Matthews residence. It's a small timeframe, but it may be enough to execute the plan should it be necessary...

A small boy tugs on Duke Reginald's trenchcoat.

Boy: Hey, Mister, why do you talk like Stewie Griffin?

DR: BEGONE! I shall not suffer such indolent questions. I said begone boy! Get out of my sight this instant!

Boy: Whatever, bye Mister.

The kid runs off leaving Duke Reginald to his musings once again.

DR: It seems that for the time being, another course of action would be pertinent.

---

Finally, the scene returns to Lord Blackwing's billiard room, where the Right Honourable Gentlemen met last week to discuss the plan. Lord Blackwing is stood looking out of the big window on to the lawn, and his three associates are sat at the table. Without turning around from his position, Blackwing addresses the men.

LB: Gentlemen, I trust you have all carried out your tasks. William, would you care to report your findings?

WD: Certainly. I observed Chris Matthews for some time. There doesn't appear to be much weakness in him. A fine practitioner of judo and savate. Honestly, I think we'll have enough trouble besting him in a match, let alone coercing him or kidnapping him or trying to get any sort of information out of him. He seems to have least sentimental connection to the rest of the Matthews family, so it would even be difficult for us to blackmail him. I think this one is a case of best leaving him well alone.

LB: Hmm, this is a touch disappointing. I had hoped to use him as a backup incase we were unable to get Chuck in any way. No bother. Reginald, what do you have to tell me?

DR: Well, I observed the boy Zachary during the course of a typical day. If we WERE to kidnap him our best shot would be as he leaves school. There is a 30 second or so window whilst we walks to the car that meets him, because it can't park right out the front of the school. However, we would have to strike PRECISELY when we meant to, or the day would be lost. With careful planning it is very achievable, but I would recommend pursuing other avilable options before relying on this one.

LB: I agree, Duke Reginald, very wise. Sir Ian? What do you have to enlighten us with?

SI: Well, father, I was spotted by that blasted Matthews before I could conduct any really meaningful research.

LB: Of course you were...

SI: I did manage to ascertain, however, that he, erm, seems to like playing with his dog.

Blackwing swings around to face the men.

LB: HE ENJOYS PLAYING WITH HIS DOG?! Sir Ian, were you anyone but my son I would have petitioned the Queen herself to reintroduce hanging for your pathetic insolence. Fortunately I foresaw such incompetence and performed a little espionage of my own. I am confident that we will be able to coerce Mr Matthews in to doing our bidding without too much difficulty. You are all dismissed for now. William, Reginald, excellent work again as always.

WD: Thank you, my Lord.

DR: Most graciously put, my Lord.

LB: Sir Ian. Do NOT disappoint me like this again. Do I make myself clear?

Sir Ian slumps his shoulders.

SI: Yes, father...

---

Lord Blackwing: So the Right Honourable Gentlemen get their second chance at Gold here in the Insurgency Wrestling Federation, as myself and the esteemed William Darlington take on James Shark, that suggestible negro with such a fond like for women's shoes, and the all-American stereotype, ZIF, whom I so bodily defeated in one on one combat last week.

I am sure many of you will be wondering just why it is that I have decided to throw my weight behind William in this match, rather than take the opportunity for gold myself. It is simple, really. I am an old fashioned man, a gentleman. The ring is not my place.

Now that we have recruited the magnanimous Brandon Macdonald, the Right Honourable Gentlemen are truly a force to be reckoned with. By the end of this week we will be walking out with two champions in our midst, and soon to be a third if Duke Reginald is allowed a chance to wrestle that filthy Taig Connor O'Shannon.

However, with the recruitment of Mr. Macdonald comes some level of redundancy. I have shown that I am capable of holding my own against Psychotic Clowns and imperious American nincompoops, however I am not as young as I once was. Although I may appear far more fit and healthy than the average man my age, I am still an aging beast and I simply cannot keep up the pace at this level for too long. With our numbers strengthened, there is no longer a need for me to fight on a weekly basis.

I am therefore taking this opportunity to announce that as of the ringing of the bell that signifies the end of the contest at Demolition Day, I will no longer be competing regularly in an IWF ring. I may get involved in scuffles from time to time, but from that moment forth I must concentrate on my role as leader of my men. This is simply a role I cannot fulfil to my best potential from the battlefield itself. I am more Churchill than Cromwell. I lead from the rear.

However, that is not to say that during my final match I will be workshy or lackaday. Far from it. I shall pull my weight, just as William shall, and ensure that a Darlington has held major championship gold in this accursed country as well as back home.

I need not speak about ZIF, the self proclaimed 'BAD ASS'. I have defeated him once already, and see no problem in doing so swiftly again. You shall be the first to be eliminated. As for James Shark, you shall also be swiftly dealt with when the time is right.

Simply put, chaps, at Demolition Day the Right Honourable Gentlemen will be victorious at every step. And there shall be nothing you can do about it.