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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: finnwhelan on July 19, 2024, 06:24:26 PM
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PARADIGM SHIFT XXII // PAINT IT BLACK
I’VE BEEN WALKING TALL SINCE THE JUMP, HAD ENOUGH, NOW I’M UP. WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY WANT FROM ME? START IT FROM THE TOP, THAT’S A LOT. KILLED THE SENDER FOR THE MESSAGE THAT I GOT, HE WON’T TALK, NO HE WON’T. KNUCKLES TURN TO WHITE, GET A FUCKIN’ GRIP ON LIFE, THERE IS NOTHING BUT THE FIGHT, DO IT OUT OF SPITE.
ARANKAI .
••••••
They’d done it, just like they always did. The Conspiracy, no matter how much they had fought for the win, were unsuccessful in obtaining The Mixed Tag Team Titles – The Wolves of Gheimhridh kept them within their over two hundred and seventy mark. Just a couple of weeks, and they would be three-hundred day holders.
This fact alone would probably piss a lot of people off, no matter if they mattered in the long run or not.
They shared a locker room now, he and Kayla. He’d showered first, removed the grime of wrestling in the ring off his body and prepared himself for their evening ride back to their hotel in Ontario, California. Loose clothing, though it never seemed like he wore them, felt better after such a strenuous event, and he was honestly ready to crash the second he hit that pillow. His championships were draped over his luggage next to him as he sat on the bench, arms crossed as he listened to the conversation going on in his eardrums.
“Mate, I don’t know…” Aiden was muttering quietly, clearly having left the arena and headed back to the hotel himself. He spoke quietly, which meant that Kallie was asleep in the bed next to him. “What if it’s a trap?”
“We don’t have any reason to believe they’re against us. The group was loyal to Kei at one point,” Dickie replied. “Like Finn said, we just have to recreate that relationship all over again, get ‘em to trust us. And then we can start creating deals like we used to.”
That wasn’t particularly what Finn had said, but the fact that Dickie was starting to get into the evil mastermind of a gang of criminals, perhaps there was hope for the child yet.
“So when is it?” Finn questioned, his eyes flickering over to Kayla as she turned her back to him, pulling on a loose shirt over her torso and adjusting her own sweatpants. He decided a while ago that he liked her better this way – he knew Kayla’s outfront cunt attire was simply something she enjoyed to wear, but she’d toned it down after Finn assured her that anything looked good on her. Except white.
“The Romani want to meet with us next week, after you guys ship out to Inglewood this time. Said it would probably be best on Thursday, but not to bring attention. I got the address…”
“That seems pretty short to meet with them…” and not enough time to get the information that Aaron’s father, The General, had procured further. But over the phone, he could hear the British-Russian shrug his shoulders as he spoke.
“Said it was critical that you come too…”
“What about me?” Aiden tried to cut through pleasantly.
Dickie ignored him, “And if we’re being perf honest here, I don’t think I can do this one on my own anyway. It’d be my first actual meeting and I mean, I saw Kei do them, but I didn’t do one myself. I know you have…” he trailed off. It seemed the more that his little brother learned, the more he didn’t want to mention Finn’s previous exploits as kyodai to Kei’s shateigashira.
“Fine. Send an address and a time, and we’ll get it done.” He paused as Kayla looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She knew what Finn’s role was with Dickie to an extent – advisor, leader, the one to get him out of the messes he created. But she didn’t know exactly what their deals were or why. And she wasn’t going to know. He pulled the airpods out of his ears and stored them in their case before chucking it in his bag. “Are you ready?” He questioned Kayla, who nodded and threw her championships over her shoulder before readying her luggage.
“What did the little shit want?” She inquired as Finn did the same, opening the door and letting her step out in front of him before following her out into the hallway. They began walking the short distance to the garage, and then to their car.
“Has a meeting he set up,” he replied, though he wasn’t specific. “Wanted to make sure I could be there.”
“What kind of meeting?” She pressed, turning her head and looking at him.
“Just a…consultation…to see if we want to work with them.” Finn chose his words wisely, trying to not let on that he was still doing the exact thing that she didn’t want. Kayla wasn’t stupid, by any means, and she knew he was up to something. She narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t upfront with her like he usually was.
“Who is they?”
“Kay, I don’t know,” he replied, somewhat exasperated. “I think that bomb into the table fucked with my head, I can’t remember what kind of vehicle we have…” He tagged on, hoping to change the subject.
Kayla rolled her eyes and reached over, digging into Finn’s front pocket with her hand and pulling out the keys. “It’s a Hyundai.”
“A what?”
“Hy-un-dai,” Kayla repeated.
“A Hyun-day?” He corrected, grinning when she threw him a sassy look and smacking him in the stomach. He grunted and then laughed as she pushed open the door then to the garage. They headed over in relative science for a moment to the Hyundai Elantra that Finn had rented upon their arrival to California. They would probably rent out the same one again next time, if they could. He liked the smaller cars – they zoomed around a bit faster than the Land Rover he had in his Colorado estate.
They deposited their luggage and then got into the vehicle quickly, pulling out of the arena quicker than he thought they would have. However, the car provided him the silence that inside hadn’t given him. There was no dull roar of the crowd, no sprinkling sound of the shower. Just the low hum of tires on a road as he got onto the interstate to head back to their hotel.
The silence allowed him to get lost in his own thoughts. Kayla closed her eyes in the passenger seat, dozing slightly. He frowned as he drove. Part of him wondered if this vendetta of an escapade was because he loved Kayla and wasn’t about to see her hurt…or if there was some part of him that held a savior complex, hidden beneath the exterior of an overt asshole that he carried with him every day of his life. He seemed to save poor, unfortunate souls. Once upon a time, even Miles Kasey had been part of his Home for Wayward Wrestlers, and now? Now he was housing his friends and family in the apartment complex he purchased while also providing a home for most of the members of the Yakuza that continued to be loyal to them.
Maybe it didn’t matter, in the long run. He knew he was in crosshairs regardless of what happened with Kayla and this thing with the Romani. He’d always been there anyway.
••••••
Five defenses. Five opportunities for you all to take what you think doesn’t belong to us. Five failed attempts. Five disappointing days when the Wolves continued our reign and despite all that you did, you couldn’t anesthetize us.
It wasn’t that The Conspiracy didn’t fight hard, and it wasn’t that Limitless didn’t try to push themselves to slay the huge dragon that gobbled up their drive and consistency. It wasn’t even that Carter and Angelos didn’t do their damndest to push forward just the same as Jordan and Marlowe. I’m not going to be a demon and discount the effort, the drive, and the desire to succeed that every human being has wanted in the past…what, two-hundred and seventy something days.
It’s just that on the night they stood against us, they were not strong enough to attain greatness.
As we approach Summer Exxxtreme XII, there’s been a distinct push for Kayla and I to constantly defend our championships. And maybe that’s because the peanut gallery never really stops talking, which…to me, seems counterintuitive and just meant to be a petty bitch fest because they’re feeling bad about their own life – ultimately, we’ll never know. But here we are. With the ability to say not only are we the longest reigning champions, but the ones with the most defenses. Doesn’t matter when at this point, we’ve done something that every mixed tag team failed to do, and that was defend it more than four times.
But it’s just a fluke, right? It was a lucky win in November, what with Kay and I not really a team. And then in December, we kind of figured it out…push it forward and we find ourselves in the relationship and team that we are. It’s all just luck, every time, isn’t it?
Let’s not talk about how I am one of the best in this business, that I have eons of data that shows me to be a vindictive fighter. I have a lopsided win loss column with far more in the wins than the losses. The number one thing people have used against me in the terms of this company in general is a streak of losses years ago that people salivate and center speeches lives around. That person?
Dead.
A poor, poor, excuse of a human being that doesn’t stand in front of you now. But even on my worst days, I produce greatness. On my worst days, I make every step in the direction of success that I can. Sometimes, we’re all tired, but that’s never an excuse. We can talk about how someone else is irrelevant, and how they don’t matter – we can dismiss others and act like they aren’t worth the time or the effort…but that’s dismissive of self. It dismisses you as an individual, and that is something that I could never do.
The Conspiracy have been the only team that could have even remotely beat us, in my opinion. A shared thought process because they’re similar to the structure that Kayla and I have, and they had everything to lose by losing to us. Luna Pasilino is set to face Kayla in just a few weeks, and it wasn’t me who obtained victory for The Wolves…it was Kayla standing tall over Luna. A prophetic vision? Perhaps. At least, I think so. I appreciate the candor, and I appreciate the fight from Alexander…I think we could have a great match in the future on our own, but for now?
The Wolves of Gheimhridh still stand tall.
So what happens next? What does the company do? They throw us another team, one that we have defeated, but another person that can claim their one measly little win over me. Miles Kasey and Alexandra Callaway.
Sounds like there’s a wedding ahead, and that’s cause for celebration.
But that will be the only reason for any celebration.
Last time we did this, Miles, you had a one up on me. You’d defeated me, one on one, on my return match to SCW. We can argue about how well you did versus how well I did, and come to whatever conclusion. However, the fact remains that the last time we walked into the ring to face one another….it was a defense of these belts. Kayla and I defeated you and Alexandra, who barely showed up, soundly.
In all this time, you have been an Internet Champion, and lost that championship. Alexandra has been a Roulette Champion…and lost that championship. It’s not that you guys don’t have accolades, because you do. You’ve been stars in this company for brief moments of time, but I hope you don’t think that just because you’ve had your little standoffs and glories that you can amount to the caliber that is required to knock me, or Kayla, off our pedestals. I don’t know if you have noticed, but Kay and I have been the first in a few things lately in a company that has ascended four hundred regular shows. That’s not counting the pay per views we all participate in.
First dual-championship holder. I think you would have heard us say in the past that it isn’t the same as holding a championship, winning a different championship, and needing to drop it because of the rules. No. Kayla and I ascended as Mixed Tag Team holders and then rose to the top of our singles division and clutched those championships too. We hold both, quite proudly, and we raise them in competence. I haven’t had the greatest of opponents for my World Title, but let’s be honest – we keep getting trash in, trash out.
I believe the last time I spoke with you in this kind of juncture, I saw someone who was far more capable of anything in their world than what we get. You still don’t dig. You still don’t come out of here screaming, fighting, proving. Miles, you struggle to even get a vicious bone in your body, bruv. Your promos lack bite, and they’ve been lacking bite for months. Look at your one offs with Peter Vaughn and tell me where the venom is, where the vitriol is for someone that beats you time and time again. He comes back swinging every time and we’re left…like we are.
Peter has made no secret that he wants to come for my title. Fine. Let him. I have enough vitriol to cover both of us because I don’t like him. Unlike you, I know how to hit people where it hurts– I’m that petty. And I don’t try to hide behind backhanded compliments. Everyone knows where I stand – I either like you, or I want you six feet underground.
When you disappeared from Wolfslair, and though you were welcomed back, I told you that you would be an outcast. You’re still on the fringe, just as I am. A heathen. Until you’ve run your paces, until you’ve proven that you still want to be a wolf, then you’ll always be on the fringe. It’s the same in wrestling. It took a very, very long time for me to get that into my own head. I can disassociate things from one another. Whatever chaos is in my life – far more than any of you will ever know – I can separate from my career.
You haven’t learned that yet.
When you clapped back at Kayla, you proved it. Kayla popped your for thotfie and instead of bashing her, you bashed what she’s interested in and went after our relationship. You’ve got your relationship, again, in your brain because your wedding is coming up, and clearly, these championships aren't at the forefront of your mind. I don’t give a fuck what you do inside your sheets and outside of this company, but clearly, you do. You’ve been rooting for us to get together for months, except when you fucked off and hid from all of us.
I get it, but it’s disappointing.
Your eyes should never leave the prize when something golden sits in front of you, and again, I’m not even sure you want this. Like last time, Miles, it is a lesson for you to learn. You need to go hard, you need to push, you need to do the best you can every time, You don’t do this. You just fly by the seat of your pants, congratulate the other person through your promo on their preemptive win, and then head back home to Vegas.
Where the fuck is your fight? Why do you do this? I’m sure you love wrestling, I’m sure you love your world around you when it’s not being fucked up by your brother. But what is your purpose? Why are you here? I want to help you find that drive, but I can’t do it if you don’t know your own purpose.
Fuck, let me help you. After all of this, let’s sit down and actually go over how you beef yourself up. Because it’s the same every time, it’s like you run out of things to say. Lord knows I love to talk.
I think your partner has a little bit more drive, but is going to end up floundering eventually. Robotic in her presentation, robotic in everything that she does, I don’t know how she got to the point of being a champion in this company. I look at the fact that you made your way through the Blast From the Past tournament, and I just get the feeling that it was on Alexander Raven’s laurels that you got there. And it was on your ass that you fell and lost him the opportunity to succeed.
But you should be used to falling on your ass, right? What, in the last two weeks, not only did you lose your shot at the PWS Legacy World Championship, you also lost your Roulette Championship. You have nearly more losses here on your own than wins, and all of your wins lately have been because of someone else. You failed in the last Blast From the Past, just like you did here. You’re not special. You’re not good. You lost. To two members of the Lyons Den.
Hi Eddie, I see you.
You’re going to be looking for redemption, to push past everything, to fight the power that is Kayla Richards…but I’ll say it again: You’re no Kayla Richards. As much as I love her, Kayla can be a vindictive, overzealous cunt in that ring, and whenever she gets the opportunity to win, she will take it. And it’s ten times worse when she doesn’t like you. Guess where you fit in her likeable categories – that’s right, the bottom.
I’m sure you’re going to sit there and flip your hair around as your talk and act like you’re some big billy badass, but I’m not interested. And I really hate that you’re bringing Miles down because he could have someone so much better than you for a partner. I don’t care what you’ve done, where you’ve done it – you’re not interesting, you sound like a promo from two-thousand, and you act like you’re the best thing since Cheetos Macaroni was introduced to the world.
I love that shit, let me tell you.
The fact that you didn’t banter tells me one thing, Alexandra: you’re scared of being painted differently than the bullshit you put out there. The problem? Everyone sees your bullshit already, and they find you to be a coward. Maybe you’ll continue to do well in other places, but eventually, everyone catches on. And they don’t want to work with cowards who are unwilling to do their job to create hype.
I don’t like you, and neither does Kayla, and neither one of us want you representing anything to do with this company. Kayla will put you out of misery, maybe and hopefully for-fucking-ever.
Miles, you deserve a better partner. You deserve someone who isn’t going to fail you time and time again, a person who doesn’t rely on others to get them where they are. I dislike people who slide up to the top of the mountain based on everyone else, and from what I’ve seen? That’s Alexandra Callaway for you. You can correct this mistake – you could get someone in there that works better with you than against you. Someone that doesn’t disappear, someone that’s willing to think about other people than herself.
Miles Kasey and anyone else could be a ticket I’d be interested in watching.
When it comes to Climax Control 400, it will be the Wolves versus whatever you two are…hopefully separated after this match. We’re main eventing, we’re pushing all of our stamina and drive out there. I expect it to be matched, unlike the last travesty of a match we had. I expect to see competitors…I expect to see you there, and when we’re done with all of this?
Don’t step up to us again until you actually earned it.
••••••
It’d been a long while since Finn was in his brother’s apartment. The floor length windows that overlooked the Hudson River were wide open, and the seating arrangement outside kept them all in the shade while still providing warmth. It was late at night. The fire pit was roaring. It wasn’t like Dickie to throw parties, but he was slowly learning his new place in the world, and that meant schmoozing with some of the higher ups of society. Inside, his girlfriend – Aiden’s sister, actually – was dressed tastefully in a dress talking to some of the big wigs of the city. If they played their cards right, they’d turn a blind eye to the Yakuza just as they had with Kei.
Finn stared into the flames of the firepit, looking at the stones at the bottom with limited interest, a glass of water in his hands. The Jameson he’d been saving for nearly a year laid tucked in his freezer, waiting for the day in which he’d indulge with Kayla. But that wasn’t today, and it wouldn’t be for a while. He chose water, and he would always choose water – especially when the stakes were so high.
Dimitri Watson liked to look like he was a moron from time to time – it made it easier for him to push ahead of the packs, to be better than everyone around him. But he wasn’t stupid, and he knew Finn well enough to know there was an agenda in everything Finn did. After all, Finn had purposefully rebuffed Kayla for months because he didn’t want to be her rebound, and he wanted her to recognize her feelings. The only thing he hadn’t banked on was Kayla being a stubborn cow at times about it. And now? The pressing of this particular meeting? He knew there was an ulterior motive.
Dickie took a shot of his whiskey (What, just because he’s russian doesn’t mean he always chooses vodka, okay?!) and leaned forward in his seat across from Finn. The flames danced and flickered, sending different lightning across both of their faces. They were both dressed up, but neither was engaging in the small talk.
“Why this one?” He blurted, looking at his brother inquiringly.
Finn looked up at him without moving his head, giving him a slight Kubrick stare as he looked up from beneath his eyelashes and eyebrows. He frowned and looked away, leaning back slightly and looking upward. “For no real reason, I suppose. I just looked at the ledger and thought that this would probably be an easier one since the Romani are outcasts of society…and that’s what you and I have been for the longest time.”
Dickie narrowed his eyes, while also not believing his bullshit. “Yes, and Elena really loved us both and we weren’t just tools for her to rise to the top.”
Finn scoffed, snorting almost as he heard their sister’s name.
“Give me the real answer, Callien.”
“I don’t get why all of you use my real name and think that it’s going to give you a heads up with me. You know I hate it.”
“Bruh.”
Finn rolled his eyes and then glanced back inside at the milling of people inside the house. He could see Kayla purposefully not engaging with anyone, just watching, from the upstairs balcony bedroom that Dickie and (he assumed) Amelia slept in regularly. Kallie was with her, and both were watching Aiden closely to see how badly he might fuck everything up.
Dickie looked over, and then back at Finn, putting it together. “Kayla?”
Finn nodded slightly. “He threatened her.”
“And so what, you’re dashing off into the sunset like a gilded knight to save his damsel in distress?”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s distress. More like irritation, and gilded? Really?”
“Look, a Porsche is not a tank, remember that. You got that 911 Speedster, and I really hope you don’t think you can knock down a fucking gate with that thing.” Dickie scoffed. “Probably would do more damage to the car than the gate…”
“I’m not knocking down any gates, I’m not galloping off on a horse and killing the dragon that lives in my brain. I just want Kayla to not feel like she has eyes on her at any time, and I’m just…gonna go in there and…you know…”
“Threaten him back?”
“Politely.” Finn added, raising a hand. “I’m going to threaten him politely that if he tests the hypothesis of messing with Kayla, he’s going to have a reaction he doesn’t like.”
Dickie narrowed his eyes again and raised an eyebrow. “That is the kindest way I’ve ever heard you say fuck around and find out. Dude, we’re going into their house when we get to this carnival. Do you really think it’s wise to just go in there and start making demands?”
Finn paused and then leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you really think I’m that dumb? No. We’re going to barter, we’re going to act like I don’t know shit about anything that he had to do with Kayla, and we’re going to create a deal. At the end of it all, when we shake hands, I’m just going to pull him super close and tell him that he fucks up, he’s dead.”
“I don’t know, Finn…”
“It’s easy. I’ve done it before.” Finn shrugged. “Men are really only scared of two things: lack of power, and being threatened to lose their life. When he realizes that he doesn’t have the power to control everything, he’ll posture, and when he postures, he gets my threat. And I don’t know about you, but most of the people in this business know my threats will come to fruition if they fuck up. So most don’t. And this will be no different. My enemy is my enemy unless I make him my friend, and that…is how you gain power.”
“But what if he just wants to get under your skin.”
“It’s not my skin he’s getting under, Dickie. It’s Kayla’s and I won’t have it. She deserves to have a stress-free existence and if I can make that for her, then I will.”
“You’re whipped.”
Finn raised his glass and nudged it in the direction of Amelia, who stared back at Dickie with a slight blush and then turned away. Dickie smiled slightly.
“So are you.”