July 28
Las Vegas, Nevada
Following the end of Climax Control
The minute Lachlan Kane entered the locker room, he launched his jacket across the room with a guttural yell, running his hands through his hair and pulling at it slightly. He paced the floor angrily while Sierra Williams followed in after him, closing the door tightly. She waited a few moments to let Lach’s anger simmer down a little bit.
“Lachy-” she started to say, but he cut her off.
“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I told you that I was going to fuck this all up for us. I lost my focus. I let myself get counted out because all I could think about was beating that piece of shit to within an inch of his life and-”
Sierra stepped up to him and grabbed his face, kissing him to cut him off mid-sentence. She pulled away after a moment, but kept her hands on his face. “Listen to me. That wasn’t your fault. We all got caught up in the moment-”
Now Lachlan was the one to interrupt her. “I should have known better!” he said, pulling away from her and resuming his pacing. “Seven years I’ve been doing this, Sierra. I’ve wrestled all over Europe, Japan...I’ve been a champion in multiple companies. I. Should. Be. Better.”
Frustrated with her fiance, Sierra reared back and gave him a slap across the face. Lachlan stood stunned, holding a hand to his cheek while she got directly in his face. “Enough. You are better than almost everyone in this company. I’m not going to stand by and watch you degrade yourself because of a fluke. We’re going to regroup, we’re going to train hard this week, and one way or another, we will be the mixed tag champions again. And if those two weasels think they’re going to get away with that bullshit they pulled out there, they’re sorely mistaken.”
Lachlan gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“I doubt that Mark and Christian are just going to let that result stand. There’s only one spot left in the semi-finals, so one team has to win, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
Sierra got a devious smirk on her face. “Well, let’s just say a little birdie is about to give our owners a little idea…”
-----
Earlier This Week
“So, you think the two of you are done with us?”
The familiar voice echoing through the confines of the abandoned warehouse held an edge to it as Lachlan Kane strolled into view, a metal baseball bat at his side. He was dressed in all black, to match the foul mood he was no doubt feeling as a result of last week’s match. There was a devious smirk on his face, however, as he stopped a few feet away from the camera.
“Not by a long shot. See, there’s only one spot left in the semis for this tournament, which means that only one team gets to advance. You thought you were all smart last week, distracting me to the point of a double count-out. But all you did was delay the inevitable, not to mention make it that much more painful for you. Because now...now there’s literally nothing Sierra and I won’t do to make sure that we walk out of Climax Control with that final spot.”
He paused a moment, scratching at his stubbled cheek. “Evelyn, it’s time to put on your big girl panties now. Whether you like it or not, you signed a contract as an active competitor. Which, for someone who claims to be the ‘Head Bitch In Charge’, seems like a giant oversight on your part. Did you not even read the contract in front of you? No, you were probably too busy counting the dollar signs floating above your head, thinking of all the ways you were going to turn your client into a star. Which - spoiler alert - isn’t going to happen. At least not at the expense of Sierra and I. You thought what she did to you last week was bad? Just wait until she gets her hands on you this Sunday, and can do whatever she wants with no repercussions.”
He smirked casually as he swung the bat lazily at his side. “And as for you, Liam? I’m going to beat you down until you’re nothing more than a blood stain and a bad memory. You’re nothing but a one-dimensional caricature. You think people want to see you as a champion? You’re a joke, and I’ll be damned if I let someone like you represent the division that Sierra and I built from nothing. She and I worked too damn hard to let some snot-nosed delusional shit stain waltz in and make a mockery of it all.”
He paced a few steps, swinging the bat up to rest on his shoulder. His body language was becoming more aggressive, and the smirk was gone from his face to be replaced by a feral snarl. “For two months, I had to sit back and watch all these teams that had been silent for Sierra and I’s six-month reign all of a sudden step up to challenge for the belts, while the belts themselves got held hostage by a team that fucked off and disappeared because they knew Sierra and I were on their heels. We wanted our rematch. We never got it. So now we have to go through this bullshit tournament to claim what is rightfully ours. What we never should have lost in the first place. See, I was already angry that we even have to jump through these hoops in the first place. But now, with the bullshit we had to endure last week? Now I’m just downright pissed off. So if you really think that the two of you stand a chance against Sierra and I when there’s no DQ, no countout?” He laughed bitterly. “Then you’re even more delusional than I thought. See you on Sunday night.”
Gripping the bat tightly in both hands, Lachlan took a hard swing towards the camera...and smashed the mirror that had been set up in front of it, effectively cutting the scene closed.
