PARADIGM SHIFT VII // LIKE A VILLAIN
YOU NEED A NEW CLEAN SLATE WITHOUT THE DENTS. A PLACE TO PUT YOUR PAIN, YOUR CONSEQUENCE. WHEN YOU LOOK INTO THE MIRROR…ARE YOU EVEN THERE?
BAD OMENS
••••••
The championships are ours. Despite the fanfare, the fallacy that Limitless had in thinking that they couldn’t be toppled and the arrogance that there was nothing that we could have done to topple them has been quickly quashed. Two shows later, and now we’re watching as Climax Control becomes a playground for children and a really bad melodrama mid-day soap opera that can be likened to an episode of Young and the Restless. It’s like it’s the fuckin’ Newman Family back there – matriarchs and patriarchs running the fray while the children run amok, destined to be repeats of their originals.
I know it sucks, and if I were a better person, I’d use this time to give props to Oliver and Eiley for doing a great job and that it just wasn’t their time that night.
But I’m not.
I’m not a good person, and I’m honestly not fuckin’ interested in paying homage to a team that folded at the first actual challenge that came across their paths. Choosing to badmouth Kayla on Twitter was a pointed insult that was quickly perceived as childish and pedantic, and then all of a sudden, the second the twits lost, they fell apart. The next few shows, mark my words, you’re going to see Limitless choking at the seams, sad and pathetic. Oz is going to fight through his failure and try to show everyone else that he can fight through his pain and become something again, and Eiley is just going to scream at the heavens that he’s treated her so badly and she just loves him so much…
Melo…
…drama.
But that’s what wrestling is, right? We weave our personal lives into the fray so that there’s something to grasp onto, so that eyes are upon us, so that people are invested in us. But there are some things that you just don’t put out there – Kayla and I, we may not like each other, but we know what we’re capable of. We can trust that no matter what our personal feelings are, we know that the other is going to do their utmost to push forward and do their best. We do need to work together, and despite everything that you fuckers said about us – that we wouldn’t get along, that we’d implode, that it wasn’t going to work, that we were just another team thrown into the fray that couldn’t get their shit together…
We won.
Oz crashed and burned like a fucking Australian bushfire in the middle of the hot summer to the Revelation 6:4 and now he’s second-guessing the quality of his person and the quality of himself as a wrestler.
That is what happens when you get patted on the back too much and given too much credit.
They’ll pick themselves up and ride the fires of life, but until then, you get the duo of myself and Kayla Richards. I’m sorry that it took so long to happen, but you know how it is when you get booked in coach. A lot of smelly people in a part of a plane that has too many lodged together, and kind of makes you feel like you’re in a pig pen. I didn’t get booked there, but Kayla did. Maybe she’ll listen to me next time when I say I’ll get the tickets.
For now, we are the Mixed Tag Team Champions. The Wolves of Gheimhridh, as difficult as that is going to be to pronounce for a lot of people, are the ones to beat, and I’m going to tell you right now that it’s not going to be that easy to wrest anything from our hands. This wasn’t just about getting the gold. It wasn’t just about placing championships around our waists. It was about proving a fucking point: we are two of the best to walk through Sin City on our own and now together. Kayla and I existed in only our second match together and defeated the thick-and-thin Limitless…what does that say about what has walked these halls?
Wolfslair is non-existent at this point. The Barnharts are weak. Limitless is limited. Interest is going to peak, and eventually, mixed teams are going to want to come here to defeat us. Week in and week out, we’re going to do our utmost to knock everyone out of our way. And when it comes to the final event of the year? Don’t think we haven’t seen it. Because we have. We have Limitless again, coming to have their rematch. I say let them.
They’ll call it a fluke that we won.
I call it a fluke that they continue to exist. Last week, Oliver got manhandled by children to the point where he failed his partner again. Eiley is barely speaking to him. Don’t think that because I’m not posting on social media or that we were absent last week means a goddamn thing – I am always watching, I am always circling and I am always waiting for the right moment to strike.
All of this being said, at Climax Control, I get the opportunity to fight with Kayla one more time not as a thrown together mix, but as a solidified team. And it’s not just an opportunity to tag and continue to learn how each other works, but an opportunity to prove our mettle and our worth. It’s a championship match. And even more…it’s an opportunity for me to right a wrong. Miles Kasey and Alexandra Callaway, our illustrious Internet Champions, are facing off against us in their second match together.
Miles Kasey is my wrong that I intend to right.
But you expected that, didn’t you, Miles?
••••••
FINN’S HOME FOR WAYWARD WRESTLERS
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
[•] OFF-CAMERA
Callien,
I hope my letter finds you well. You have been dismissing all of my calls. Which, now that I think about it, is not at all surprising, given our strained relationship. I wanted to give you a heartfelt congratulations, Kyodai, on your championship win. It is always exciting to see your protege succeed where he otherwise once failed. Tag team wrestling is a skill that neither of us bargained that you would be in for, and when you wrestled with your sister all those years ago, we both discovered that you were more than capable. An unexpected pleasure, I believe. But you never had an accolade in that area, and now, it rests within the laurels you have attained.
I am happy for you. As I have been for years. You have made many steps forward, and you have done much in the time you have been wrestling. Has it been ten years? I believe so. Those first years were not as good as they could have been, but now, you are striving where you once fell apart. Perhaps it is because you have a focus which did not exist before. You were blinded by the love you had for your ex-wife. You were blinded by your sister, constantly having to take a step back so she felt like she was something in this world of sinners and saints. You have become something. A paragon of violence. A man that many do not want to face.
However, I do not think you have attained your peak.
You are not who you could be. You are not who you should be. You’re distracted again, and don’t think I don’t notice it. You are strong right now, but you will eventually start to slip again when she becomes the thing you crave most in the world. It is the fallacy of man. The fault of none.
Answer my call next time. With me by your side again, you could be unstoppable. I can help you focus on the things that matter.
Respectfully,
恵
Leaning on the balcony of his home, Finn let the paper dangle in between his fingers. He’d read it so many times now, and it left a sour taste upon his tongue. He could hear the man’s voice in his broken, yet so clearly enunciated speech. Kei Hideshima was someone that he owed for his career, but not at the cost that Kei wanted him to pay. Beyond that, it was gaslighting, and he’d grown used to it by now, could recognize it easier than he’d ever been able to before. Manipulation was Kei’s signature, and for years now, he’d resisted the urge.
Nevertheless, it was unnerving to know that Kei continued to watch him. Even after the resistance, the put downs. He continued to involve himself in areas that Finn no longer needed him for, and didn’t care for his methods any longer. He didn’t need Kei’s presence to be a despicable human being, and to be honest, that was a lot easier to be lately than it had been before. Perhaps if he put up a guise that he just didn’t give a shit anymore, people would believe it…and it might make it easier for him to follow.
He heard the door slam in the distance and turned his head. Aiden and Kallie were out with Dax on one of the last decent days in the city, so the only other person it could have been was his little brother. Dickie Watson was a terror of a human being, but hadn’t been doing so hot in his own rise back into the fray. He knew it stressed the kid out that he wasn’t doing well, and Finn was, so it wasn’t like they talked about their careers all that much anymore.
He watched as the kid and his gremlin features b-lined for the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips from the same cabinet as the stash of Takis that continued to lay untouched since June. It only took about thirty more seconds before the sliding glass door opened and Dickie stepped out onto the concrete with him. “You’re out of sour cream and onion,” he informed Finn.
“You’re the only one that eats them.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean that you should just run out of them.”
“Hello to you too.” Finn sighed and shook his head, folding up the letter and tossing it onto the table. It didn’t miss Dickie’s eyesight and the little shit swiped up the paper with a snicker.
“You have a penpal girlfriend?” He sniped, unfolding it. Finn didn’t bother responding, turning his head back to look over the fading greenery of Central Park. “He’s like Willy Wonka, mate. Just sending invitations and expecting people to arrive at his Murder Factory.”
Finn smiled a bit at that, though he’d never let the kid see. Dickie tossed the letter in the same manner and then dropped into the table and chair, setting the bag of chips there too and looking up at his brother. He glanced at the unopened bottle of Jameson on the table for a second, and then narrowed his eyes. Finn’s addictions had once been a problem, and if it had arisen again…”Oi, what the fuck is this, hey?”
Finn turned and then looked at where Dickie’s fingers were pointed. He shook his head and then sat down. “It’s for the right time. That’s all.”
“You’re not wallowing in your sorrows, are you?”
“No.”
Dickie peered at him, taking in his appearance up and down, narrowing his eyes before he sat back and shook his head. “Good. You better not be, because I’d hate to have to Boston Tea Party this Irish Whiskey.” He snorted at his own joke and then grabbed a chip, chomping on it. “I know what you’re about to ask. Why the fuck am I bothering you? Because Aiden is with Kallie on their walky-walk of the day and Amelia is busy with her thesis and gets mad at me if I interrupt her thought processes.”
“So I’m your last choice.” Finn questioned, crossing his arms as he put his foot up on the plaster, smirking slightly.
“You are precisely my third choice, not my last. That would be–” He started rattling off names that Finn didn’t care about nor know, and the Seattle Saint let him ramble. Dickie was the type that needed to talk to someone, whether that was someone he knew or someone that he didn’t know. He was getting a little less verbose in his later years of wrestling, as everyone seemed to do as this industry wore them down. But with Finn, someone he trusted wholeheartedly, it was a different story.
“...anyway, I guess what I wanted to say was that it’s nice that you and Kayla are learning to get along better. I mean, I know it was touch and go before the whole win, but…maybe you guys can get on the same ground personally.”
Finn scoffed. Kallie had said something similar the other day and he’d brushed it off because it was Kallie and she was constantly in unicorns, puppies and babies mode. This whole conception that it was simply a possibility that they weren’t getting along because they chose not to was getting old, and eventually, Finn was going to break and snap. However, he had done a better job lately of managing his emotions, and decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to hit the kid in response.
The truth was at this rate, they would never get along. Maybe it was his own mistakes, maybe it was hers, or maybe it was all just a miscommunication, but Finn was tired of trying to not explain what was going on. He didn’t want to have to go over feelings and emotions, because if he could just stuff them down, then maybe he could work on a professional level with Kayla and they could be great together.
Because they were never going to be together.
“I talked to her the other day, you know. In a text, really.” He continued, after waiting a couple of minutes to see if Finn was going to snap. “She doesn’t answer my phone calls, which is probably smart. I asked her how it was going tagging with you and she said that it was good. I pressed a bit more and she immediately told me to fuck off, but it’s progress.”
“Maybe you should actually leave her alone, Dickie.” Finn shook his head and looked back out over Central Park. He knew the general location of Kayla’s new apartment – Kallie had given him an entire list of directions just in case he ever wanted to go over there. It was virtually on the other side of the park, and she was paying an arm and a leg for it, but that’s what she wanted. He never intended on going over there. If they met, it was in the park itself, or at the training facility, or at shows.
“Nah.” Dickie disagreed, pushing his hair out of his face and taking another chip. “I know you don’t want to hear it anymore, but I still think the two of you have more talking to do. And it’d be great if you could skip the talking and get to the snogging.”
Finn slowly glanced at him, not having expected the words that he’d just uttered. “...snogging?”
“You know. Kissing. Making out. Getting over the fuckin’ hump that the two of you created for yourselves because neither one of you can fuckin’ give in on anything and you’re both more stubborn than mules fighting Russian bears.” Another chip. Disinterested tone. Didn’t bother looking at him. It was like Dickie was dogging for this argument, and all it was going to do was piss off Finn.
But an angry Finn, in Dickie’s mind, was much better than an apathetic one.
“There’s nothing to get over, Dimitri,” Finn snarled.
“There’s a lot to get over.” He countered, turning his head snarkily at Finn. “There’s the fact that you two are still in love with each other.”
“No we’re not.” Finn grit his teeth and leaned forward.
“Yes, you are. You say Finn, and Kayla gets all sad eyes for a split millisecond and then snarls at everyone involved. And neither one of you are ever going to get over it if you don’t talk about it directly, mate.”
“She made her decision, Dickie!” He snapped back once more, and then rose to his feet. “She chose to leave, just like she chose to bail the fuck out when it could have been something more at Christmas. She rejected me, and I’m not going to keep having this goddamn argument with you. We are not going to be like we were, and that’s something that I’ve accepted, she’s accepted, and now you and everyone else involved with us needs to accept.”
“Except it’s no-”
“It is.” Finn swore, turning back to look at him for a second. “We are a tag team because we were forced to be, and we’re both trying to make the best of it that we can. Just because we can get along for professional reasons doesn’t mean that it’s going to be more than anything but that. The fuck part of that do you all not understand?”
Dickie rose to his feet. It wasn’t often that he stood up against his brother, but this time, he did so. And he left his chips behind. He stood toe to toe, nose to almost nose. “There is.” He repeated his brother’s tone. “I know it’s easier to hide your head up your own ass, but I want to hedge a bet with you. You tell her how you feel. You actually say something to her about it, and she’ll get angry at first, but stop being a fuckin’ twat about all of it. You’ve always rejected her from the get. And now you can’t handle it because she stopped putting herself out there and got in your feels.”
Finn let out a snarl and went to put his brother in a headlock, but Dickie was too fast for him this time. He slipped away, ducked and jumped towards the sliding glass door.
“You’re being a little bitch, you know.” He snapped.
Finn lunged again, but Dickie opened the sliding glass door and then slammed it shut before Finn could get to him again. He pushed against the handle, refusing to let the older man open the door.
“Dimitri!”
Dickie stuck his tongue out and locked the door, before stepping back and flipping him off.
“I’ll tell Aiden to let you back in when he gets home!”
“DIMITRI!!!”
“BYEEEEEE BISH!!!!!” He cackled, and ran out the door. Finn pounded on the glass, but it was to no avail.
“Little shit…” he swore, setting his head against the glass and slamming his eyes shut.
He hated that little shit today. Not just for this…
…but for the fact that he was right.
••••••
I would be lying if I said that I cared about either of these individuals. Once upon a time, maybe I did. You see, despite my callous and apathetic nature, I do have a soft spot for those who are down and out. It’s why so many people have somehow made it into my home to stay. Finn’s Home for Wayward Wrestlers was a joke that we all started saying at one point, which was a play on that child’s cartoon Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, but nevertheless, that’s what it was.
The one-brain-cell-firing-a-half-hour Australian that lives in the secondary apartment had a kid on the way and I didn’t think he and his new wife should be living in a one-bedroom in Queens, so I opened my home. Kayla broke off her engagement and found herself a room in my home. My little brother lives on the couch half of the week because he’d rather be in a place where there’s people.
And then there was Miles.
The one dude who couldn’t fuckin’ say he was moving out after I’d given him a place to stay, and also convinced Alex Jones to let him into Wolfslair. His exact words originally were, “I don’t like British People”. And then I reminded him he fucked my sister, so….you know, he owed me. The price of pussy and all.
But I’ve learned the more that you care about people, the easier it is to stab them in the back. Miles was in a sore spot after quitting the Russow dungeon, and needed a home. He had batshit ex-girlfriend who was probably ten-times worse than the Overly Attached Girlfriend meme and needed a place to hide and get away. And since I fucking annihilated her favorite wrestler in the entire world – Levi Russow, for your information. Yyou all know his child, Jack, – it made all the more sense that it be in my place, because she’d never check there because I am a vile human being.
Or some shit.
He stayed and he worked. He improved. We all can see that as we’re pushing ourselves along. And then he met Carter, which is lovely…and then none of us existed anymore. Kayla said he let Carter cuck his entire career, but at the end of the day, this is more about Miles than it is anything else.
I believed in the kid. I saw capability in his hands if he could just focus in on his own personal journey. I tried to work with him. I tried to push him. I saw that he was talented a long time ago. Time and time again, he rose to prominence, and then fell back. I remember saying nearly a year and a half ago that I was disappointed. I was disappointed because of all the things that he could have done, he never was able to communicate them. I said it once and I’ll say it again, just because you have a shitton of potential doesn’t mean anything if you don’t use it.
And Miles, you don’t use it.
But Finn, whatever could you mean? You’re the Internet Champion, right? This was a testament to your grit, your resilience, and your refusal to back down. That’s what you told Eddie, right? The world started righting itself for you when you defeated me. But I leave to you a question, first…
…did you defeat me? Or did you defeat a ring-rusted shadow of the person that I really actually am?
I don’t remember saying much to you back in September. You were a bit too wrapped up in playing the bitch to Calvin Harris until he decided that he wasn’t worth the salt that he supposedly believed he was. And me? I wasn’t quite well aware of where my feet were going to land. I wasn’t in it. Austin asked me to come back to knock some fucking sense in to you, and you? You had the upper hand that day.
Not again.
You see, Miles, I’m not September, Finn. I am November Finn. I am Winter Finn. And like the Starks insinuated with their fear of the Winter, it’s not the kind, mentor that I wanted to be to you back a year ago when you had nowhere to go and no-one to trust.
This Finn wants to knock your head clean off your shoulders. This Finn wants to annihilate any hope and dream that you ever have and make sure you understand that your one win was nothing more than a hopeful pipe dream and fluke. There is nothing more important to me than this week, where I teach you the last lesson that you’re ever going to want to learn: no matter who comes into your life, you don’t turn your back on the people who created you.
You bit back. Certainly. But you didn’t bite for long enough. You didn’t clamp down and you didn’t ensure the life was gone. Miles, the wolf that you call yourself is still the cub that hasn’t learned how to sharpen its fangs, to kill,, to destroy the threat that lies in front of you. If you had half the tenacious skill and mettle you think you do, the resilience and fight within your bones, then you would have killed me when you had the chance.
Now I’m the nightmare that you created, mate. Because for me, this is twofold. This may not be the shot that I want – everyone is clear on the hope that I will one day get the shot that I think I deserve. But it is for my championship. And let’s be clear: you may be hoping to become a dual champion because then you might actually hold some stock in this company, but for now? You’re not getting past me. You’re not getting past the Saint. And you’re not getting past the fight that I have planned for you. I know you’re going to give me your best. But let’s be honest…
Your best isn’t enough.
I have something in my hands that matters to me. As much as it’s been stated that I’m only doing this so that I collect gold. It’s nice to have it, but you know how it is when I do. I fight like a demon to keep it. I lose the saint mentality, and I become the fighter that I need to be in order to persevere and retain. I know you’re going to fight like hell, but I am hell.
And Alexandra?
Listen, no amount of reposting about articles of yourself online is going to create a decent competitor. Don’t think for a second that anyone reads anything about anyone else, especially in the dirtsheets. Take that lesson now. You were the World Champion of a place that otherwise should never have existed, and if we’re being honest, it was a legacy that was held by Russows and Phoenixes…all of which are dust now, thanks to you. The final Champion isn’t an accolade that I would hold high anymore, especially when the company is dust. It might be a testament to your skill, but…
…you’re no Kayla Richards.
When Kay is in the ring with you, not only are you going to be facing a competitor with an entire repertoire that could kill you…you’re also going to have to deal with the fact that she doesn’t play fair. She doesn’t give a flying fuck whether its clean or not, and while I don’t share this sentiment, I get it. She fights to win. She doesn’t care about tactician bullshit, she’s just as much of a brawler as I am.
This…mythical bullshit that you’ve had all the allusion in the world for means nothing at the end of the day if she submits you, or even worse, mutilates the image that you have. I’m not going to tell you that the Roulette Championship is nothing to be pleased about…it’s gold, after all. But it just tells me that you’re not on our level. Kayla could be Bombshell Champion if she wanted to. I was the World Champion, and will one day find myself vying for it again. You?
You’re stuck in the division that no one wants to be in.
Perhaps that’s why you continue to succeed. Because there’s nothing else there to desire to be. Are your aspirations so small?
Your sights may be set upon Kayla and I, but let’s be perfectly honest…
You don’t have chance, Ms. Callaway.
Stay in your lane.
Or we’ll force you back into it.
See you guys soon. Sorry in advance.
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