PARADIGM SHIFT XIII // ANTI-HERO
IT’S ME, HI. I’M THE PROBLEM, IT’S ME. AT TEA TIME, EVERYBODY AGREES. I’LL STARE DIRECTLY AT THE SUN, BUT NEVER IN A MIRROR; IT MUST BE EXHAUSTING ALWAYS ROOTING FOR THE ANTI-HERO.
TAYLOR SWIFT
(https://i.imgur.com/laEcWDp.png)
••••••
The stage was set. In just three weeks, it would be Finn Whelan versus Goth for the World Heavyweight Championship at Sin City Wrestling. This would not be the first time they would lock hands, nor would it be the last, if the bookers had it their way.
There was so much going on in Finn’s life, it was hard to distinguish where his mind was at. He wanted this. He wanted to be the champion, and he wanted to be in the singles field. None of this could be denied, as he was sure to tell everyone over and over again. But since his return in September of 2023, Finn had been on a tangent. One match lost, while every other match he’d been in was a win. Six matches, and it could have been more over a variety of months and weeks if he wanted it to be.
But now? Now was the time to buckle down. The World Championship was on the horizon, but even more closely looming was the championships that he and Kayla had dethroned Limitless for. The Mixed Tag Team Titles had the opportunity to stay theirs, or continue on to new holders…if they couldn’t focus. If they couldn’t get in tandem sync. But things had been better, right? He and Kayla were getting along now, even to the point where he seemed to care more about her than he’d ever let on.
But what if they lost? Would she blame him because his mind was on the championship? Or would she blame him because his mind was lost in the shattered development of his life. His brother, missing, his friendships nearly non-existent. Everything was a matter of convenience.
And yet…
Even so…
He’d fight to the death for all of it if it meant everything could be in his grasp.
This wasn’t a night where the chips were down for him – if anything, he had even more to prove.
••••••
Hit fast. Hit hard.
I can hear it now. The same thing that everyone says, over and over again because they think it’s the key to breaking me down, in whittling me into a shape that they’re okay with. To what they dictate. The narrative is painted over and over to try and label me a selfish cunt because I don’t stop at just one.
But as a reminder, before anyone ever says one word about it…I don’t make the bookings, but I do make it a point to take every situation and weigh it to the best of my ability. And that’s exactly what I did. Given the opportunity, I capitalized on Helluva Bottom Carter, and also now the incomparable…apparently…Peter Vaughn. Who hasn’t shown the fuck up since the embarassment of losing to little ol’ me.
Big ol’ me.
Whatever.
I have been nothing but honest and truthful in the past few months, and if anyone says anything otherwise, at this point, it’s simply ineptitude and false superiority guiding the way. Peter Vaughn tried to attack me for being a tag team wrestler – a division that he couldn’t even hold a candle to, and put down as if it was trash to even be a part of. But just because I succeeded in one area doesn’t mean I can’t succeed in another, and time and time again, I’ve proven that I am driven, focused and a tried-true competitor in any ring I get into. Any division, anywhere. I put work into my craft, and you can throw me to the wolves…and what was it that Bring Me the Horizon said?
Tomorrow I will come back, leading up the whole pack.
Even when I’m placed in a situation that adversely affects me personally, I still rise to the occasion. I still push with every bone in my body towards the zenith that is my own plateau. It took me years to reach it, to hone my craft, but no one in their right mind ever believed that I would be as insurmountable as I’ve become today.
While I look towards My Bloody Valentine V, I am also cognizant of the fact that I still represent this company as a Mixed Tag Team Champion–not just a consolation prize, not just boredom for the fact that I had nothing better to do. I’m not going to do what Limitless did and sit there and think we’re unstoppable just because we put on a logo over our heads – no. Anyone, at any time, can be defeated. Anyone, everyone. Karma doesn’t just pick and choose its victors and losers, it strikes when nary a soul can suspect.
That’s why I fight, train, and work as hard as I can to be the best bloody wrestler on this side of the sport. There are thousands of men and women in this sport that train the hardest that they can, and so many that will sit there and proclaim they are the best. And maybe they are. But I can tell you right now that I can go toe-to-toe with any of them and rise even when you least expect it.
The Wolves of Gheimhridh isn’t simply a forced partnership that blossomed. Kayla and I may have our disagreements, but you’re not going to find any other wrestlers that are always at the top of their game, always pushing forward, always making the best out of every situation that is tossed at them. Even when our fearless previous champions were set to try and make history by failing miserably, but rising like phoenixes against the big bad enemies, they were stopped. Not because we were lucky, but because Kayla and I have no chill when it comes to this sport.
Our world could be crumbling before our very eyes and you’re always going to get our very best.
This is a promise that I make to you. In a few weeks, you’ll see me either rise above Goth and raise the Championship far above my head, or you will see me fail – but it will be done with my very best.
It’s the very same at Climax Control 385. Our Go Home show. Our last ditch effort to make the waves in the scene so that we have viewership and all eyes are upon us. While I’m sure I’ll have some words to share with Goth at our contract signing, I have the duty and the honor to defend the Mixed Tag Team titles against the team of Ben Jordan and Sam Marlowe.
And let me put a stop to this bullshit. Again.
People are capable of multitasking. It’s an easy skill, and it seems to be one that everyone seems to think I can’t do. Just because I’m going for one championship doesn’t mean my sight is clouded to everyone else. It doesn’t matter who I face, tag team, champion, non-champion, rival – I don’t just sit back and sip some Oodles of Noodles and think I’m just going to get off scot free. Nah. It’s not me.
I’m here to destroy.
You’ll hear Kayla say that she firmly believed that it should have been this team that faced us at the final show of 2023, but again…we aren’t the bookers and we were given two people that tried to simultaneously be logical, while also attempting to frame us for some bullshit that didn’t exist. With the fact that Ben and Sam defeated Limited within that time frame, it should have been them to face us at December 2 Dismember. And yet, it wasn’t.
It was a draw last week, and a coin flip decided this match.
Blissful.
Hit fast, hit hard. It’s the very first thing I was ever truly taught once my first tenure in wrestling played itself out. Don’t step back, only step forward, and do it with every ounce of effort within your bones. Don’t let people see who you are, don’t let people see your pain, don’t let people see that you have vulnerabilities. Fight them off, hit fast, hit hard. And make sure you take every bit of their fight from their lungs.
I’m sure you’ve heard, Ben and Sam, that the problematic one out of myself and Kayla is Kayla. And the shoe fits, I would suppose. Kayla doesn’t give two solid fucks what happens to you, or anyone else out there in the ring. She’ll fight like a death demon in order to take your life, and she’ll do it with a smile on her face. But in this case? In this match?
Hi.
I’m the problem, it’s me.
••••••
“This will be a help,” a manicured hand, a beautiful wedding ring on the fourth finger, reached out and pressed against his shoulder.
It was twenty-fourteen. Years before all of the hatred and anger that surrounded him, them. They’d been married then, happily. For just a year. She was four-foot-eleven, bright pink and black hair styled like the typical scene girl. He was six-foot-four, chip on his shoulder, but still willing to learn. He brushed the long lock of black hair that often fell into his face aside and looked out the window as they traveled the lush, green mountainside. Cherry blossoms had just started to bloom.
Aaron smiled at him, placing both hands on the steering wheel. “You were good at Combat Syndicate, and that championship you won there meant something. Seattle gave you the foundation you needed, but this will help. I’ve known him for a long time. He trained me a bit too, and maybe if you could even just train with him for a little bit, you’ll come out of this better than you think.”
“I don’t know,” Finn argued back, setting his head harshly against the headrest of the passenger seat on the opposite side of the vehicle than it should be. Japan was just as ass-backward as he thought it was going to be, especially outside of the main cities. You could only disguise a city so much in technology before you left its confines to the wilderness once more. “This is probably some shit venture. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered, to be honest. I’m a scrapper, I’m not a trained fighter–”
“You are a trained fighter, and you’re almost as good as anyone else in this business already. You’ve been doing this a year. A little more practice and a different way of looking at things can help, Finneh.”
“Why is some fuckin’ dude in Japan going to take any interest in me?”
“Because–” she sighed as she stared straight ahead, turning the wheel to match the curves in the road. Finn’s eyes glanced outside. Was that Mount Fuji? Or was it just another mountain? It’d been so long since he paid attention to any kind of geography…to think he’d actually be here, though. “He owes me.” She replied.
“So this is just a favor to you.”
“A favor to him.” She retorted. “He wants back into the fray, and this is the only way that I can think of. Can you just…trust me here?”
Finn looked over at his wife, frowning slightly. Aaron hadn’t led him astray yet, not since they’d met nearly two years before. She, just stopping at a gas station for a drink, and he…well, he was a heroin addict and set for death’s door if she hadn’t happened upon him. He stopped some ne’er to do bullshit and she was hooked. It was a shitty romantic story, but it was what they were. She’d been saved by him, and in turn, she saved his entire life. Without her, he’d be gone. Without her, there would be no chance at salvation or redemption for a life turned to shit by his own choices and failures.
He couldn’t save himself, how the fuck was he supposed to help anyone else? He couldn’t even show his face to them anymore. And besides, why would they even want to look at him? To even see him? Elena hadn’t wanted to see him for years. And Dimitri? He’d abandoned the fuck out of him after he never said he would.
Failure after failure.
He said nothing, watching silently as she pulled up a driveway just outside a main village – he didn’t know which one, just knew it was far enough outside Tokyo that he could probably see the stars if he looked upwards at night. She stopped the vehicle, and turned off the ignition, before stepping out of the vehicle and looking up at the Meiji structure in front of her, the white and brown tower looming over them like a temple of its own. Finn stepped out too, staring up at it with some form of trepidation.
A man stepped out from the canopy provided by the tower, a sword in hand and dressed in the traditional hakama and kimono garb worn by male Japanese people. He tilted his head and looked at the two Americans with a curious expression.
“Dōshite koko ni kita?” He questioned, asking why they were here.
“We have a meeting with–”
“Hideshima-san. Hai.” He nodded, realizing who they were. “The Americans…come. Kei is inside.”
He gestured into the tower, and led them inside. Finn winced at the darkness of the room, and frowned when he smelled the incense throughout the entirety of the place. He hated incense. It was not a large room that they were escorted to, but in the center was a man with blonde hair, styled like an anime character, who was dressed the same as the others. He was knelt at an altar, his head bowed in reverence.
“A fuckin’ priest?” Finn snorted, getting swiftly smacked in the stomach a moment later by Aaron. “Ow.”
“Not sorry,” she hissed, crossing her arms and looking up at him.
“No, not a priest,” the man spoke smoothly, rising to his feet and chuckling. He turned and looked at the two of them. Finn narrowed his eyes and Aaron bowed slightly, but not low enough for it to be reverent at all. “Miss Aaron, how lovely to see you again.”
“Yes, very lovely,” she started snidely, before looking at Finn. “You owe me.”
“That I do.” He nodded, taking a step forward. Finn didn’t necessarily like the man in front of him. “Finnegan, is it?”
“Sure.” Finn replied, looking down at the outstretched hand. He hesitantly shook it, if only to be polite. “Whelan.”
“Wolf?” He questioned back, tilting his head. “Finn, for fair. I get this. You are pure in that you are such a fledgling competitor…but wolf? Wolves that travel in packs are vulnerable in this business, or are you not aware?”
“I guess you’d call me a lone wolf. Because I have zero intention of ever really working with anyone. Not my style.”
The blonde man smiled slightly, and then looked down at Aaron. “He is…ah…spicy?”
“Feisty,” she corrected, looking up at him. “And he’s good. Very good. I personally think that he’ll do well under you, if you choose to teach him. He has a violent streak, and that you’re good at honing. He just needs…you know, all the honor bullshit and all that stuff.”
He nodded slightly, enthused, but not really listening too much to her. “If you will leave us a moment…”
Aaron hesitated, and then looked at Finn. He looked at her, narrowing his eyes a moment before he watched her sigh and then nod, stepping back outside into the sunlight and away from him. He was already not liking this.
“If you are to train under me,” the man started, turning and walking over to the altar once more. He grabbed more incense, and then raised it, moving it in fast shapes above the offering that was placed. “Then you must know some facts. You will also work for me. I have been searching for a right hand for some time, one who is smart, talented, and good at blending into the world. Wrestling is a passion I have had for years…and I was once a champion long ago. I can teach you to be the very same, but the agreement is that you work for me.”
“And what kind of work is that?”
“Oh…nothing daunting, I believe the word is. Some errands. Retrieving, making negotiations…”
“And in return you can train me to…?” He let his words trail off, inquiring and leaving the question in the air.
“Become one of the best in the business…if you trust it.”
Finn frowned. Aaron would be disappointed in him if they came all this way and he denied it. This man, he left free will up to him, and that bothered Finn. If anything went wrong, it would be his fault. If he failed, it would be his fault. Like everything else in the entirety of his life, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hold more accountability. But if he didn’t…what was left? Disappointment from his wife? Disappointment in himself?
“And if you hate it so, and it does nothing for you,” he added, noting the apprehension, “then I will release you with no issue. No begging. Nothing. Your choice.”
Finn thought about it, before slowly nodding. “Okay.” He probably would come to regret it one day, but now? The thought of being the best was the only thing in his mind…that, and Aaron’s happiness.
The man smiled. “Wonderful.” One more time, he reached out his hand and waited for Finn to take it. “Kei.” He stated.
Finn looked at the hand in front of him, and then nodded, taking it with a firm shake.
If only he knew.
••••••
Present day. Henderson, Nevada.
They all walked into the hotel almost as if they were all together. Aiden and Kallie, celebrating her win of the evening, were in front, Dax secured on Aiden’s chest by a slingwrap, and behind them, Aaron, Kayla and Finn bringing up the rear. There was a wide berth between Kayla and Aaron, and the shorter of the two clearly didn’t mind as she walked closely behind Kallie.
Finn frowned as he continued on, his bag over his shoulder while the other held onto his championship. A few people stared at them as they walked into the lobby, but averted their stare when Finn looked up at them. He rolled his eyes slightly, and then followed all of them towards the elevator. They were scattered throughout the hotel, and all he could think about was getting a bit of rest before they all hopped on the same fucking plane back to New York City.
He was getting irritated with all of it, but he didn’t say anything. He’d learned to keep his mouth shut from Kei, to look around and take in the sights. As he pressed his back up against the elevator, he listened quietly as Aaron answered a phone call, Kayla was engrossed in her phone, and Aiden and Kallie were talking about their Doordash order.
Before the elevator door could slam shut, a blonde haired woman with tattoos put her hand out before it could shut and leaped inside. Aiden groaned loudly. “Fuckin’ balls, Amelia.” He swore.
“Get over yourself,” she snapped back, crossing her arms and standing with her back to the rest of them. “I’ve gotta stay somewhere too, and Kallie said I could stay with you tonight.”
“Ya not stayin’ in me room–”
“Yep, I am, and you’re just gonna haveta get over it.”
“Or you could all just shut the fuck up.” Finn smiled at Kayla, who simply looked up from her phone and smiled snidely at the two Australians. If anyone could stop the bickering from the duo, it was her. Slowly, the elevator ascended, and everyone began to leave. Aaron first, Kayla second, and then the two. They looked back at Amelia, who reached over and pressed the button for the doors to shut and frowned.
They were left alone in the elevator now.
Amelia Reynolds was inquisitive, working to become a psychologist eventually but also training to be a valet if she wanted to work in the wrestling field, like her brother. She was platinum headed, and she was quite pretty, considering she was related to Aiden. She stared at Finn, realizing she’d never really talked to him on her own…or ever, to be honest. Finn raised an eyebrow.
He knew why she was here.
“Where is he?” She questioned.
It was an unspoken secret that was known by everyone. Amelia was dating Dickie, if that’s what they wanted to call it. And no one had the heart to tell Aiden, who Finn was pretty sure knew about all of it. He stared at her, and he then looked away.
She pressed forward and pushed his shoulder, forcing him to look back at her. He narrowed his eyes. “Where is he?” She asked more forcefully. He could see little wells of tears in her eyes. She knew he knew. And she wasn’t going to let up.
He looked upwards again. “He’s fine. I can’t tell you anything else.”
“That’s not fuckin–”
“If I could,” he cut her off, looking at her. “I would. But I can’t.”
She stomped her foot, and clenched her fists, turning away from him and staring at the doors. “You just don’t fuckin’ care about him at all, do you? Just lettin’ him wallow, suffer…god, you never changed from who you were. You just care about your stupid championships. Fuckin’ family shit.” She crossed her arms and he could hear the tears in her voice.
As the door rang, Finn stared as she walked away.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe he didn’t care.
…
That was a lie.
••••••
I’m really the problem that you’re going to want to watch out for tonight.
Do you think I’m going to go into a match before the very first pay-per-view of the year in which an opportunity to represent this company as its face and give anything less than one hundred percent? Because if you did, you might need an ice pick lobotomy and a grave to be put in. I wasn’t dishonest when I sat there and said I hated tag teaming because I had to rely on someone else. But that statement is also a little erroneous because it also doesn’t allow me to state the other truth: I would never fail someone that relies on me purposefully.
Whether I like it or not, Kayla and I are a team. While we were forced together to begin with, we are now a team. We rely on each other to push each other to the end of the rope, and push past it just as much. Even if we don’t always agree, we work. As much as everyone else wanted to discount us when we were forced into this predicament.
Sam, I’m sure you work. You have the background in this company, and you have pushed yourself time and time again. You’ve been in this scene. You’ve done your damage. You’ve held this championship and…well, only when this championship meant very little. Like every championship, it bounced around from team to team, and while it was held with an iron fist for a bit, its interest was destroyed by a team that put it in its grave on their own. Let’s not discount that last week, you did phenomenally well. You stood toe to toe with Ariana, and if it wasn’t for that time limit, perhaps you would have cleanly pinned Angelos and stood here not the winner of a coin toss, but of a solid win.
I know that has to bother you. And I’m sure it bothers Ben. Ben Jordan, who has…been here for eleven years. Who wrestles once a month. Who…went from being a phenomenal champion, to someone who sat in an interview that he was thirty-nine years of age and thinking about retirement.
Retirement.
Not the easiest thing to look at, is it, Ben? Looking at your life and seeing everything you’ve done, everything you’ve accomplished. There’s that light at the end of the tunnel, and it’s the light that you think you want because you’ve done a whole life’s worth of damage to your own body, while entertaining the world. You’ve put your body on the line, and at some point, you either live to regret it or love it. But the light is there. And it is easy to see the things that you want to do versus the things you need to do.
This is where you and I differ.
I don’t just want this. I need this. These two things are not mutually exclusive, and they work in tandem within my head so that I put every bit of myself into these matches.
I’ve been pretty laissez-faire about this whole comeback, I won’t lie. Whether I win or lose, it’s one of those things where I know I can grow from it, turn it into something gold, and rise up again…quickly. It was four matches the first time I had the World Championship, two when I won the Roulette Championship, and two tag matches entirely before the Wolves of Gheimhridh were champions. Knock me down, I come back twice as hard. I fight with all the candor I can muster and my bite is truly just as bad as my bark. I don’t need to sell myself to you – I am where I am through effort and skill, not because my ass is friends with champions in this company like the last group of World Champion holders besides Harris and J2H.
Because of this, I’m not desperate. But I am in need. In need of continuing this reign because of one simple reason. Can you guess it? Can you see it?
Credibility.
Kayla and I aren’t champions because of luck. We are champions because we know that ring, we know who our opponents are, and we know what we have to put out there in order for you to defeat us. This isn’t desperation, it is clout, it is notoriety. I want people to shake when they see they have to face me, I want them to cringe when they realize that their world could crumble in on them, and I want to see fear. I want them to bring their best and I want them to question their every move when they roll out of the ring, disappointed in themselves one more time.
I want that for you, Ben.
I want you to look at your remaining time left and question yourself if you really failed yourself. If you really failed Sammi. You’ve said it yourself, just a week ago – you’ve failed her. You feel like you’ve let her down, and you need to change that. You haven’t been at your best, and if you weren’t at your best when you failed to defeat Team Go, then you certainly are also not at your best to defeat me. And if we’re looking back any further than the last few months, in June you sat there and rattled the same fucking tired ass prattle about having let everyone down. You might as well make it a fuckin’ slogan at this rate.
You are not prepared for the fight that you’re about to face. I’m not saying you’re bad, Ben. You’re an integral part of SCW…every month when you wrestle once.
But I’m an animal.
I am not a wolf in sheep’s clothing – I am a wolf with bared teeth and ready to tear anyone limb from limb.
This is an exhibition, Ben. An exhibition to prove to the man who has a fuckin’ night off and a measly ass contract signing while he nurses his old ass bones that it takes more than showing up for tournaments to get ahead. Since the beginning of the year, I have been at SCW every night. I supported Kayla from the back week one, I was here week two and three, I was here last week, and here I am again. Not just because I have to be, but because I want to be.
You want to go out with a smile on your face and know you’ve done everything in your power to win the hearts of everyone else. With your dapper looks and your smiling face, you want to win over everyone and make sure you’ve made an impact.
Well, you’d have to be here for that.
Ben, you’ve held the World Championship once. You held it for eight months before you lost it to Griffin Fucking Hawkins in a six way. You held the Roulette until there was an eight way. You’ve held the regular tag team championships when they existed and…well, you and Marlowe were besties for the Blast from the Past tournament and got fuckin’ blasted out of there by a fucking pornstar name and Lord Fucking Raab.
…
You can sit there and say you want this, that you want to rectify your wrongs, but it is the same tired theme and we honestly do not need that. You and Sammi are not prepared for Kayla and I. You don’t need this. You’re repeating the same schtick and thinking it's going to provide you pity results. That’s not how this works. That’s not how it will ever work.
Take this shit more seriously. Be present. Be alive. And maybe, maybe, you’ll be able to survive.
But not against us.
Not on Sunday.
Not anytime soon.
And not against me, your Mixed Tag Team Champion. And soon to be your World Heavyweight Champion of Sin City Wrestling.
Good luck, Ben, Sammi. You’re gonna need it…when you fail Sammi one more time.