The Final Betrayal

‘What the fuck happened?’ asked Lawwell, gazing dejectedly at the bank of fuzzy screens while the other bank showed the sun breaking through the clouds at Ibrox Stadium, the grand structure still standing.

‘Seems like we didn’t need Mr Whyte to give away his secret today as Martin had it all under control. You didn’t know he could fly, eh Kearney? I’m sure if you did you would’ve flown out there after him to stop him preventing your outrage. That’s why Master Mason works in secret, you lot are just too vindictive.
‘No, we didn’t need Master Mason, Bain got there in time to erect an Einstein Rosen Bridge – wormhole to you, Lawwell, and that transported your missile to another dimension. An alternative reality if you like, one just like ours but instead of landing in that dimension’s Ibrox, it landed in Celtic Park instead. I guess somewhere out there in the ether, in this strange and wonderful universe of ours there are people wondering how a Celtic-made missile has obliterated their own ground. I guess the alternative Peter Lawwell will be wondering why he’s being put in jail for mass murder when he knows nothing about it. It’s enough to give you a sore head if you think about it too much, eh old sport?’ and he smiled and re-packed his pipe with tobacco.
‘But what about Bain?’ I asked, thinking that he looked quite sexy in the red and blue superman outfit.
‘Bain knew the cost of his loyalty,’ said Findlay. ‘To open the Einstein Rosen Bridge he knew he had to go with it. We don’t know if his super powers will allow him to survive the blast but he’s in that reality and I like to think he’s happy in the knowledge that he saved Rangers. What he thinks of his new reality’s Celtic reduced to ashes we can only wonder.’

‘We’ll get you yet, Findlay,’ growled Lawwell. ‘We might not have taken you out completely today but the world’s news stations are all over us today, disgusted that Celtic are victims in an ongoing campaign of sectarian intimidation. I’ll soon be releasing a statement calling you Scotland’s Shame yet again, my poodles in the press will push the agenda and we’ll squeeze you till your pips squeak, mark my words, we’ll still get you. And Spiers?’ He looked at me and my bowels collapsed.
‘Spiers, we have something for you.’
Electric doors slid open and out of the light walked my wife. I put on a good show of looking delighted to see her but then she lifted a hand and in it was a pistol, she pointed it at me and pulled the trigger.

I didn’t hear the bang but I came to on the floor with a terrible pain in my belly – the bitch had shot me! She’d obviously been brain washed by Devine and now she’d shot me! Donald Findlay didn’t seem to show me any sympathy.
‘Donald! What are we going to do now?’ I pleaded.
Findlay took another puff and said, ‘Now we wait.’
‘Wait for what ?’ I cried in agony.
‘We wait for Sunday, see who wins the league of course,’ he said and winked at me and just as I was passing out from the pain, my head began to swirl and I couldn't make out reality from my dreams and in the distance I could hear a horse galloping and through the mist of consciousness I swear I could see a white unicorn.