Reminders

Tokyo, Japan
2015

“Going over to Lili’s again?” Eddy asked with a quirk of his eyebrow and an amused smirk on his lips. “What’s that, three times this week now?”

With a satisfied smirk of his own, Lachlan glanced back towards his friend and mentor in the mirror as he finished washing his face of the last few specks of shaving cream left over from his shave. He smoothed a hand over the neatly trimmed stubble across his chin and jawline as he turned off the water in the sink and dried his face and hands on a towel. “Yeah, what about it?”

The Welshman leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. “You seem to be spending a lot of time with her. Must be something special between you two.”

Lachlan gave a roll of his eyes as he pulled on a fitted white T-shirt. “It’s not like that. She and I have an…understanding.”

“Ah…fuck buddies?”

Lachlan gave him a withering stare. “You really have to be so blunt about it?”

Eddy shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, just calling it like I see it.”

“Yeah, well…it works for us.” Lachlan pushed past Eddy as he made his way back to their shared bedroom. “No expectations, just an outlet for us to blow off some steam after shows and whatnot. I’m not looking for anything serious right now, anyways. I’m finally getting some headway here in Japan, and I wanna keep my focus on my career.” He sat on the edge of the bed as he slid on his Vans sneakers, tying up the laces before standing up again.

“Could have fooled me. Before, you used to stay late at the gym every single night working on your stuff. Now, it’s like you can’t wait to get out of there to go see her. Not to mention all the nights out at the bars. I have no idea how you still manage to train like a beast even when you’re hung over like a sailor on shore leave.”

“What are you trying to say, exactly?”

Eddy held up his hands, palms out. “Nothing. I’m glad you’re finding a balance like I said, but just make sure you don’t go too hard in the opposite direction, either.”

Lachlan narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You know, I really don’t get you. First, you think I’m spending too much time training. Now, you think I don’t spend enough. Make up your damn mind.”

The older man stared at him flatly. “That’s not what I said at all. Stop being thick.”

“Look, just because I want to finally enjoy my success here in Japan doesn’t mean that I’m not still dedicated to wrestling. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone derail me from that!” He snatched his jacket from the hook on the wall. “Especially not some woman.”

Eddy ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know that. You’ve got the talent and the drive to go far in this industry, but if you start burning the candle at both ends, it’s not going to end well for you. I’ve seen too many of my friends fall into this same pattern, and they didn’t last a year in this business. I don’t want to see you fall too, Lach.” He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away from the younger Irishman while a faint pink blush came over his cheeks.

But Lachlan wasn’t even looking at Eddy when he gave a derisive scoff as he pulled his jacket on over his shoulders. “You’re not my dad, and you don’t control my life.” Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Eddy gave a heavy sigh and flopped down onto the bed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “Stubborn asshole.”

—---

The room was dark, dingy and bare. Almost like something one would expect to see straight out of a Saw film. Considering the time of year, it wasn’t entirely out of place. But torture and dismemberment were not on the cards for this particular video, as footsteps hat echoed on the concrete floor grew louder as a shadow could be seen stretching across the floor. A dark figure approached from the back, finally stepping into the spotlight to reveal Lachlan Kane, the beloved “Irish Scrapper” of PWE. While normally an easygoing grin could be seen gracing the bearded chin of the handsome lad, this time his face was somber, almost disappointed. His blue eyes glinted despite the gloomy atmosphere surrounding him, as he slid his hands into the pockets of his well-worn leather jacket.

“I’m not going to stand here and make excuses for what happened at the last Victory show. I made the dumb, rookie mistake of taking my focus off the match at hand because of some…” He paused there, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he glanced off to the side, seemingly to collect his temper. “Outside interference. I fully own up to that, and it cost me. Issak took advantage like any smart competitor would, and picked up the win.” His eyes flicked back up to the camera, but this time a cocky smirk was painted across his face. “But turnabout’s fair play, isn’t it Angel? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. If you’re going to try to make my life hell again until our matchup, then just know I am more than ready to return fire on you. But while you’ll be shooting a pistol…I’ll be wheeling out a cannon.”

His posture relaxed somewhat as he moved to clasp his hands together behind his back. “But I’ll deal with you when the time comes. When I claim back my Victory title. In the meantime, I’m not going to let that loss derail me. I’m ready to regroup and come back stronger than ever, continuing to prove that ‘The Scrapper’ isn’t just some clever little nickname I picked up for myself. I may get knocked down a time or two, but I don’t stay down for long. Like this week. I’m ready to throw myself straight back into the thick of it and mix it up with one of the newer talents to the roster, Miss Ophelia Pain-Pinkston.”

“Now, admittedly that second last name attached to you gave me a bit of pause. After all, your husband seems to be hell-bent on making Miss Knight and Miss Jones’ lives a living hell, and I suppose time will tell if you’re part of that little plot line. But for the meantime, I’m going to put all that aside and look at you purely from an opponent standpoint.” He paced a little bit, as a knowing smirk turned up one corner of his lips. “You know, you and I actually have a friend in common. The formerly fiery redhead who I believe now goes by Kasey Vex. I’ve known Kasey for a good long time now, back when I was an upstart young shit back in Japan. She met me at a pretty low point and helped get me back up on my feet and kicked my arse back into gear. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today. So when I found out that I was going up against you in this match, I gave her a quick ring, since I knew that the two of you seemed to be pretty tight as well. And from what I gleaned from her, you’re quite the force to be reckoned with. She sent me over some tapes from the FIGHT! NYC days, and I will admit, what I saw was quite impressive. I have no doubt in my mind that you’re ready to give me one hell of a fight.”

The smirk dropped from his face slowly as his eyes hardened into narrow slits. The aggressive stance in his posture returned as he centered himself in the camera frame. “But I just want you to know as well that I’m coming into this match locked, loaded and ready to fire. Save for last week, I’ve been on a hell of a tear and I’m not ready to give it up anytime soon. My singular mission since the return of PWE has been to reclaim my Victory title, and it’s now so close I can practically feel it in my hands again.” He brought his hands up outstretched in front of himself as he stared down at them, empty for now but no doubt filled with gold in his mind. “But before I get there, I need to remind everyone just why I became the inaugural champ in the first place. I need to put down every challenge, every obstacle in my way. And this week…” His blue eyes flicked up to the camera again. “You’re the lucky contestant.”

“Ophelia, I just want you to know that from the bottom of my heart, this is not a personal attack by any means. You seem like a perfectly lovely young lass, and if you’re friends with Kasey then that certainly rings true. She’s a fantastic judge of character. But the way this business goes sometimes, you have to turn off your feelings and just get the job done. And until I finally get my hands back on the title that was stolen from me, everything in the ring is just business to me. But, to show you that I’m still a stand-up guy, I’ll be glad to shake your hand after the match. Hell, I’ll even treat to the first round at the pub afterwards. Sort of a little tradition, isn’t it?” The stern demeanor cracked for a split second as he smirked and winked cheekily. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished again as his gaze seemed to burn a hole into the camera lens. “But until that final bell rings, The Scrapper is all business, and he isn’t taking any prisoners.”