Not The Shot You Want, The Shot You Need

You know what's a bitch? Jetlag. Know what's a bigger bitch? Anna Daniels. Know what's an even bigger bitch? Becoming intimately familiar with jetlag. The last two weeks, here's what my schedule's been like:

•Saturday morning, usually around 8 AM, I board a plane in whatever city PRIME has been in or Seattle. Depends on if it's a ReVival week or not.

•Land in Tokyo, fly to Okayama. Potentially would've been a change of flights in America as well. Either way, you're looking at close to 20 hours of travel. At least the last two trips, I've been met at the Okayama airport.

•I stay at RAIKO's place. I relax and recover for the rest of Sunday. Monday, I follow her to the dojo. Tuesday night, I make an apearance at RAIKO's independent show. I beat a few of her young girls in back to back weeks. They did the usual; worked hard, showed fighting spirit, but they aren't there yet. Not bragging, being honest.

•I get a critique from RAIKO and Torvald Tango after the match. So far, it's amounted to “Fine, but still too similar.”

•Non-ReVival week, I leave Thursday night. ReVival week, it's Wednesday night.

Before anyone tries to say shit about it, I cleared my matches with the office after I started this whole thing. The fact that I'm essentially a temporary attraction for a Japanese micro-indy ran by someone the boss lady respects makes it so it hasn't really been a problem. I also have made it very clear I'm doing this in an effort to change things up for me. So that might play a factor.

That's what I've been up to. I don't get to see Angel as much as I'd like. My sleep schedule? Ha! What fuckin' schedule?! That thing got murdered like a teenager in Crystal Lake after a bang (not a Bang!) session. You know how that's made me feel? All travel and no Angel makes RIA something something. Someone else can finish the quote.

The Monday after my loss to Cancer, that was the first thing RAIKO demanded of me. We arrived half an hour early, headed immediately into her office. Yes, the one eyed psycho has an office in her dojo. Has a big Goku scroll on the wall behind her chair. You wanna make fun of her for it? Go right ahead. When you get stabbed (no if about it), no bitching allowed. I think that's a fair compromise.

I don't usually like watching my matches with other people. I especially don't like it when they're being critiqued by someone else, and by RAIKO of all people? I promise you, short of leaving the ring with my hand raised while covered in my opponent's blood, she ain't gonna be impressed. She sat on that zabuton (Japanese legless floor chair. Yeah, that's a thing.) with her arms crossed, silent and unmoving while she watched. Once the match ended, she hit a button on a remote.

“Why you not kill blonde scarecrow bitch?” That's the immediate question from RAIKO. And honestly, it's a fair one.

“Look, I kinda wanted to. But… She really isn't capable of defending herself if I really wanted to do something.” Weak defense? Probably. True? Definitely. If I wanted to drop Vickie Hall on her head with a German Suplex, there ain't much she could really do about that. The scoff from RAIKO could probably be broken off and used to chill a drink.

“Excuse.” Again, she's not wrong. “She put herself in danger. She not want to get hurt, why she out there? Need to be smacked and stabbed. Pain is good teacher.”

I did get a piece of Vickie. It was a measure of revenge, but honestly? It wasn't enough. That's a nagging in my head…

“That bitch should've been left in intensive care!”

Push that back in deep. Anyway…

“You looked good, Ass Lady. But still missing right kind of aggression. Still wrestle like you been for long time. Need to fight, not wrestle. No give them room to breathe. Be like fishing net. Even if they think have room, keep spacing. Make so you dictate everything. Control. Own space. Own ring.”

I sighed, tilting my head back with my eyes closed.

“Yeah? And what happens if I fuck up? Cuz I'm pretty sure control goes away when that happens.”

She huffed. I guess that's what you'd call it, though it sounded like damn near a growl.

“Why you think like that?” Her one good eye had narrowed, carving her words out of stone in the process. “So you fuck up. Every wrestler fuck up. Then you fight harder! You become wounded animal! You hurt them, take control back! You think too much. Need to trust self. Let instinct be guide when shit go bad.”

There it is. I've heard a similar line time and time again. Believe in myself. But… that's not what she said, is it? Believing in yourself and trusting yourself are two very different things. There's a ton of people in PRIME that believe in themselves. Trusting oneself? That’s a bit more rare. Why do you think some of the scumbags take the shortcuts they do? You think Cancer Jiles doesn't believe in himself? He does. Trust himself? Shit, you don't throw a low blow at a woman if you trust yourself.

“Okay, fine. I need to trust myself. The words sound good and all, but it ain't a light switch, RAIKO. You don't just suddenly start doing that.”

Oh god. She smiled. RAIKO has two smiles that I'm aware of. A surprisingly warm and gentle one you might see once a year if you're in the right place at the right time. The other one? Nope. Nuh uh. No good. It's a “I'm gonna fuck you up” smile. Which one you think she gave me?

“I have plan. But not tell you. Otherwise, you will prepare. Must be natural. Must be real. Make you learn trust.”

Fantastic. That certainly won't be terrible and/or terrifying and I'm sure I'll come out totally fine and with zero trauma to speak of! It doesn't matter. This is what I signed up for. RAIKO can be pretty harsh, but she's not typically cruel. I have to believe there's a reason for this. If I can't do that, then why the fuck am I here?

“Okay. I'm a bit leery about this, but I didn't come all this way to run when things get hard or demanding.”

RAIKO nodded. Her legs unfolded and she pushed herself to her feet. You wouldn't think a woman standing all of 5’2” or 5’3” could be intimidating. You'd be very wrong.

“Tomorrow. You dress for training. Not just stretch and meditate. Physical. Time to take real step.”

I nodded as well. I have literally zero idea what this crazy bitch has in mind. Yeah, I'm worried. But I hear that voice in my head again. Her? She's excited. Practically ready for us to throw ourselves into danger because that's what she always did. It's something I used to do. I'm of the mindset that I don't really have a choice at this point. It's time to remember how to do it again without warning.

Tuesday. First one there. Guess how well I slept? If you said “like shit”, you're right but fuck you. Stretching. Meditate, something I never really used to do before. Truthfully, I'm not sure it's helping anyway. RAIKO told me to clear my mind and find a place of peace. Neither of those things exist for me. My mind never stops, never calms, there's always something bouncing around up there. Peace? Right. My current schedule is barely allowing for such a thing.

RAIKO arrived about 10 minutes after. I've memorized the walking path to get here by now, so I'm comfortable making the trip without her. Takes about 20 minutes from her house. I've typically been jogging, which cuts down the time. Today? I walked. My nerves are wound tighter than the inside of a baseball. Stretching helped my muscles. The ruminating, being zen and all that? Not doing a single damn thing. But I'm here.

Didn't get more than a nod of acknowledgement from RAIKO. That's fine. She's got students to worry about, ain't gotta devote all her time to me. Shit, I'm appreciative of what time I am getting. At some point, Tango showed up. When? Fuck if I know. He might've crawled out of the wall, slid under the door, came out of a portal from hell, whatever.

“Ass Lady! In ring! Now!”

Can't even get a please, damn. Fine. In the ring I went, fighting the urge to be a smartass while doing so. I tugged at the ropes, testing the tension. Leg swung up to the top rope to stretch a bit more.

“Fujinaka! Masada! Koko da! Ima da!”

Fujinaka is a dude, maybe about 5’10”. Decently cut, but not all that bulky with a shaved head. Masada, a girl, was a bit shorter than me and way skinnier. Bob haircut, big ol’ innocent eyes. But this was RAIKO’s big plan? A handicap match? Sure, it would push me a bit but they're kids. Fujinaka by himself wouldn't be much of a challenge. Adding Masada wasn't gonna change that.

Opposite side of the ring, backs turned to me. I hear her in my head again…

“C'mon! Go fuck ‘em up while they're not ready! Why they stepping in the ring if they ain't?!”

Ignore it. Ignore her. Been doing that awhile now anyway. But there's something happening over there. Whatever. I'm ready to go anyway. They turned around and…

Fuck.

They got kendo sticks.

“Aitsu o buttobase! Samo nai to, omae o buttobasu zo!”

I don't need to speak Japanese to have an idea of what she said. My arms immediately go up in defense, as if it's Mike Tyson charging me and not two Japanese young adults. Have either of them even ever swung a damn kendo stick before?

CRACK

Turns out it don't really matter cuz it still fuckin' hurts getting hit by one! Biceps, forearms, even my damn elbows; everything from my shoulder down is stinging. I tried to push past, hoping to take a quick step forward and put my back at the ropes. Nope.

CRACK

Right across my shoulder blades. I stumbled forward, my guard dropping. Not great. Another shot to my back. Damnit! My leg buckled after the kendo stick made contact, even if my brace caught some of the impact. On one knee. Something. I need something. An opening. My back, my arms, there's gonna be lacerations. Can't worry about that now. I need—

CRACK

“FUCK!!!”

I flopped onto my back before rolling onto my knees. I covered up, but I see it.

Blood. A puddle of it forming. That last shot caught me right across the bridge of my nose. Something.

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?!”

Something.

“Are you really gonna let these nobody pieces of shit do this to us?!”

Something.

“Get the fuck up! Stop letting this shit happen to us! Fucking fight already, goddamn it!”

Fuck this.

I pushed myself up to my feet, even while they continued smacking me in the back.

“Oh fuck. She's got a pretty good gusher going on. Yo RAIKO, maybe we should—”

“Shut you stupid ass up, Tango!”

I whipped my hair back and slowly turned around. Both of them froze for a minute. One growl from RAIKO sent Masada forward with a swing. Caught. Hand stung like fuck, but my fingers still curled around the wooden weapon. I saw it her eyes…

Fear.

Fuck me… That? Pure fucking dopamine rush. I yanked on the stick and cracked the little bitch with a headbutt that dropped her right on her ass! Fujinaka finally stopped standing around like a fuckin' Japanese fabby and swung.

CRACK

I met his swing with my own. His kendo stick flopped weakly to the ground. I don't know which one of them hit me in the face. Fujinaka worked fine for retribution. I swung. High. Intentionally high. He barely ducked in time. Bad move. The moment he popped back up I blasted him in the back of the head. Dropped like a sack of potatoes. Masada was trying to get to her feet. Kendo stick shot to her shoulder put her right back down.

Fujinaka was clutching at the back of his head, still face down. Fuck him! I went at him like Tony Gamble with his shit jokes towards Jenny Colton. Masada still tried to push herself up, grasping her shoulder. Appreciate her heart! She probably didn't appreciate the soccer kick I blasted her in the face with.

“ENOUGH!!!”

Tango scrambled into the ring and shoved me back. I caught my footing and cocked the kendo stick up, ready.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! RAIKO, what the hell?!”

She hadn't moved an inch. Arms folded on her chest, stoic as she ever was. If Tango was looking for RAIKO to intervene, he was shit outta luck. I surveyed the carnage in front of me; Masada was clutching her face, sobbing. Fujinaka was struggling just to get to his knees. And Tango… Ooooh, he'd have vaporized me right now if his eyes came with lasers. And me… I felt it. A smile cross my face. A rumble escaped my throat.

“Hehehehe… HAHAHAHA!”

Cackling. Shit, haven't done that in awhile. Not since she was in charge at least. But dear god, did it feel good to be the one standing tall for a change. This wasn't about winning. This was about finding what I lost. It never left. It just needed plugged back in. The anger in his eyes, that scowl you could see even through his beard… It was about fucking time I made someone else feel that way.

“Welp! Good work today, kids! You did alright! Don't worry about the injuries! You guys got that free healthcare shit, right? It'll be fine!”

Guess Tango didn't appreciate my brand of optimism, cuz the motherfucker stepped right in front of me. He looked down, that glare of fury still present in his eyes.

“Yeah, you're real fucking tough, aren'tcha, Lockhart? How about next time, you try doing that to me?”

Another cackle escaped.

“Yeah? Guess they ain't putting Bum Fights on DVD anymore, so you need something to do. Listen, Tango… It's cute and all, you trying to defend their honor. And yeah, I went overboard. Maybe not hitting me in the fucking face with a kendo stick is some advice you could give them?!”

Somehow, his scowl deepened. Dude looked like the angry emoji; you know, the pissed one but not the one with the swear bar?

“It was an accident, Lockhart! You that much of a petty hothead, you'll beat a couple of kids for a mistake?”

I smirked. Devilish. Rude. Last time I wore a smirk like this, my lips were painted black.

“My god, Mr. Hardcore Badass has a honor code? You step in the ring, you're already at risk. They'll be fine. Fuck, if anything, I taught them a lesson for later! If you're gonna beat someone's ass, commit. You go halfway, shit like this can happen!”

He stomped over to grab the kendo stick Fujinaka had dropped. Guess he really disagreed with me, eh?

“Tango! Drop it!”

RAIKO was on the apron now, hands clutching the top rope. Concerned? Naw, wouldn't say that. I didn't particularly care, to be honest. My tank top was already covered in my own blood. Adding some of his wouldn't hurt things. He snarled.

“Why the hell should I?! You're supposed to be taking care of these kids and you feed them to this… this…”

I interjected.

“Cunt? Bitch? Monster? Call me whatever, I don't particularly give a fuck. How about this, big boy? You said I should try my luck with you? Next time I come over, I'll be more than happy to do so!”

Tango threw the stick down. Dumb bastard. I should've hit him just for being stupid enough to give up the even playing field he was on.

“Fuck that! I want you now! Let's go!”

RAIKO had one leg through the ropes.

“Tango! Mō ī! Kodomo-tachi o isha ni tsureteitte, sukoshi ochitsuki nasai!”

He didn't move at first, continuing to bore a hole right through me. But after a few seconds, he spat to my left. Tango rolled out of the ring, helping Fujinaka and Masada gingerly make their way to the floor. A hand on each of their backs, he shot one last evil eye my way over his shoulder before they headed towards the door. RAIKO, still on the apron, exhaled.

“Why you talk shit? He already mad. He is moron, but need him here.”

I waved a dismissive hand towards her.

“Oh chill, RAIKO. Like you ain't done similar shit before. They'll be fine. If he really is that pissed, I gave him a chance to rectify it later.”

She rolled her eye. Dunno if it was towards me calling her out or my flippant attitude towards Tango’s rage. Whatever. This was her plan, not my fault it got fucked like Bonnie Blue.

“He will want fight. You better be ready.”

A shrug and a smirk, the same one I wore earlier.

“I will be. I ain't worried.”

RAIKO shook her head.

“You not get it. Tango tough. Brutal. Very experienced in deathmatch. And now mad. He will try to tear you to pieces.”

There it is again. Those words sent a rush through my veins and a delightful tingle down my spine. Fuck. Yes.

“He can bring it. I want him to! I'm just getting warmed back up.”

I grabbed a towel, soaking it with blood and sweat. I tossed it towards the corner before sending a crooked smile full of bad intentions towards RAIKO.

“Before all that that, though? I got a train to derail.”

Well well, what do we have here? A brand new toy to play with! Well, maybe not BRAND NEW… You do got some miles on ya, don't ya, Coltrane? But still, you're new to PRIME. Congrats! I mean, sucks for your boy. Bad luck, huh? Ya know, I was 27 when I first came into PRIME. And it's been a motherfuckin’ struggle since. So I got a bit of advice for ya before addressing you directly.

Stop lying to that poor kid. Now, I'm sure in your heart of hearts, you truly believe he has what it takes. I'm telling you, having been in and out for years, that it takes a rare breed to not just step into our ring, but survive it. Shit, I'm not sold on you doing so. Stop preaching sunshine and rainbows. Make it so he's hungry for that spot! Make it so anyone that looks to take it from him meets canvas in short order! Take off the fuckin’ training wheels or that kid's never making it here.

But hey, maybe you're part of the problem instead of the solution? You did essentially steal from him, after all. But it's cool, right?! Cuz he said it's okay! Your business is floundering or whatever. Completely legit reason to fuck your student over! Yeah, I'm probably being unfair there. That's between you two, right? Not my business. But it bugs the fuck outta me that someone's who's in a teaching position is taking advantage of a student.

But that's not your intent, so I shouldn't be so harsh. Ha! Fuck that! I ain't the punisher PRIME deserves, I'm the one it needs. This little dance we're gonna do? It ain't personal. You probably are a decent enough dude. Shit, after I try to rip your head from your shoulders, I'll be happy to buy you a beer! Or whatever else if you ain't a drinker. I'm judgement free like that!

But that's after. Till then? You're in my way. And that's very unfortunate, Coltrane. I'm not all the way where I wanna be. But I've got my taste for blood back. That alone won't do it. But man, does it help! I ain't just looking to win. I wanna tear you apart! If you think you've had it hard, I'll let the pain that courses through my fists let you know how hard I've had it! Cuz it ain't been easy for me, big boy. Especially not lately.

So I genuinely wish you the best of luck going forward, Coldtrain Sanderson! You could probably use some with me. Lord knows I'm not a mentally defective, out of shape dipshit in a too tight singlet (All offense, Miguel). I'm looking forward to playing with you. Do yourself a favor and make sure you know your blood type ahead of time!