Author Topic: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart  (Read 258 times)

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Post all roleplays for this match here.
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Offline Andrew

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Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #1 on: May 04, 2022, 08:52:32 AM »


Narrator:Bill Barnhart has fun using a famous advertising slogan when he is involved in a Triple Threat match. The slogan was for Doublemint Gum and the slogan went DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE. . .DOUBLE YOUR FUN…WITH DOUBLE GOOD, DOUBLE GOOD, DOUBLEMINT GUM. Bill told me he’s ready to have double the fun defeating Finn Whelan and Max Burke to again become Sin City Wrestling Roulette Champion.


The scene opens at the hotel room of Bill and Bea Barnhart, and their English Bulldog Iris, located near the Ano Liosia Olympic Sports Call in Athens, Greece. Bill hears music coming from the bedroom where Iris has been relaxing. He thinks maybe Iris is having a video chat with Pete the Cactus so he asks Bea to come with him to check on what Iris is doing. When the two walk into the room they see Iris with her butt toward her laptop computer and she’s twerking to the song SHAKE YOUR BOOTY by KC and The Sunshine Band. On the computer screen we see Pete the Cactus with a huge smile on his face, with a Margarita in one hand, and a cigar in his other hand, and he is enjoying watching Iris twerk.

Bea:  Iris? What in the hell is going on here? Are you two sexting each other using video calling? Iris you stop twerking! Pete you need to end this video call now! I’m going to have a talk with Senor Vinnie about how you are corrupting Iris!

Pete the Cactus:  !!! *** ### (Interpretation:  We’re just having a bit of innocent fun. You need to chill out! Vinnie won’t do anything to me!)

Bill:  Pete you don’t talk to Bea in that manner. I’m also going to talk with Vinnie about your behavior today.  However in all fairness to both of you I do feel that you and Iris share equal blame in this incident. Iris you could have said no but you didn’t. That’s all for today Iris. End the video call, shut down your computer, and you stay in the bedroom until we come and unlock the door and let you out.

Iris:  Moan. . .Whine. . .Snort  (Interpretation:  Daddy Bill and Mommy Iris always take my fun away from me.)

Iris turns off her laptop and she jumps up on the bed and curls up next to the pillow. Iris sighs heavily as Daddy Bill and Mommy Bea close the bedroom door so she cannot get out.

Bea:  I hate to be hard on Iris but I don’t think she has the reasoning abilities that Pete has so I have to hold Pete more responsible for what happened. I feel Pete takes advantage of Iris.

Bill:  I’ll talk to Senor Vinnie when I get a chance. I want to finish airing my comments for the Roulette Championship match.


Bill begins his comments on his Roulette Championship match at Into the Void XI.

Bill:  Thanks for joining me today. As you know I had my rematch for the Roulette Championship at Climax Control 330 against Finn Whelan. Well, Finn, what happened in that match? I know you’re gonna try to bullshit everyone into believing you’re the victim and not the perpetrator but I know differently. What happened is that you arranged to have Kayla Richards run in on our match and interfere to cause me a loss but you tried to make it look like you were not involved in the scam. Well it didn’t work because I didn’t buy into your scheme.

Bea:  After Kayla Richards pulled that crap during your match and she attacked me I hope there’s a match between me and her soon so I can enact revenge on her.

Bill:  So, Finn, we continued to fight it out and both of us fell through the table at the same time and the Referee declared the match a No Decision. Christian Underwood stepped in and declared that decision a travesty and he decided to include me in the Roulette Championship match at Into the Void XI.

Bill gives a thumbs up into the camera.

Bill:  Let me tell you how it is Finn. You thought you were going to come into this Roulette Championship defense match and only get defeated by Max Burke. The decision by Management to ensure I wasn’t cheated at Climax Control 330 have now made this match at Into the Void XI a Triple Threat. I always find Triple Threat matches to be double the fun as I get to destroy two opponents instead of one. I use the slogan from Doublemint Gum which is DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE. . .DOUBLE YOUR FUN. . .WITH DOUBLE GOOD. . .DOUBLE GOOD. . .DOUBLEMINT GUM. For the benefit of you and Max I’m informing you that I’m pumped up and excited about this match as I’m going to have double the fun beating down, destroying, and humiliate you as I defeat both you and walk away as the Roulette Champion. You two are not going to change the outcome of our match as I’ve already decided I’m winning. I’ve modified the Doublemint Gum jingle to fit me and our upcoming match. It goes like this. . .DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE. . .DOUBLE YOUR FUN. . .WITH DOUBLE BILL. . .DOUBLE BILL…BECAUSE HE’S THE ONE!

Bea:  Tell Finn and Max what we talked about before coming on camera.


Bill:  I’ll start with comments to you Finn. You only defeated me for the Roulette Championship due to us having a twelve part match that ended in a 6-6 tie. Then they added one additional item and you happened to trip over your own feet and get a cheap win over me. In my way of seeing things a cheap accidental win is a travesty in the sport of wrestling and I’m here to fix that travesty. You were unable to defeat me a second time as the Referee made a decision of a draw in the match. A draw doesn’t equate into a win Finn. It means you couldn’t get the job done against me. You failed to get an honest and legal win over me twice but that crap ends at Into the Void XI as I’ll not allow that to happen again. I’ll get the legal win and walk away as Roulette Champion.

Bill does a fist pump toward the camera.

Bill:  Now I come to you Max. From what I’ve heard it appears you won a match that qualified you to face the Roulette Champion at Into the Void XI. I haven’t been paying attention to your career, or your performance in Sin City Wrestling, as I don’t see you as a viable opponent. Let me put it as straight up and honest as I can. I don’t know much about you and I don’t care to know anything about you. I don’t care who the hell you are or who you think you are. I don’t care where you come from or if you really come from that place or you’re just spreading lies. I don’t care what your moves, maneuvers, holds, and other items are that you use during wrestling matches. It doesn’t matter what you call them or what they consists of as I can counter everything and I don’t care about you! I also don’t give a shit who you who you think you are, who you know, or what you eat for breakfast. All I care about is whupping your sorry ass, and that of Finn Whelan, and walking away as Roulette Champion. Want to try to change my mind? Then give it your best shot. I assure you that your best shot will fail.

Bill provides a huge grin into the camera.


Bill:  Finn if you hire Kayla Richards to interfere in our match again I’ll not only mess you up I’ll ensure Kayla gets messed up by Bea. As for you Max? I’m tired of wasting my breath talking to you and about you. I’ll do the rest of my talking in the ring with my wrestling abilities at Into the Void XI.

Bea:  Oh, Bill, I assure you if I get a match against Kayla I’ll destroy her and thrill the crowd in doing so.

Bill:  Fin. . .Max. . .I heard they installed a sign at the arena where Into the Void XI is being held. The sign is posted just before you get to the wrestling ring. With this sign posted you two won’t be allowed past the sign to get into the ring. Har har har!!!


Bea:  Nice one Bill.

Bill:  The bullshit you two have been spewing forth leading up to our match is just that. . .BULLSHIT!!! And to prove it I used a Bullshit Meter to determine how much of what you two have been saying is honest, or semi-honest, or bullshit and here is what the Bullshit Meter detected concerning your comments.


Bea:  You always keep me amused with your comments Bill.

Bill:  Trust me Bea I’ll keep Finn and Max “AMUSED” while I’m beating the crap out of them!

Bea tells the camera person they are done with their comments for today and the camera  person calls into the Network and the Network cuts their feed and our screen does dark.

Offline Max Burke

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Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #2 on: May 07, 2022, 11:01:25 PM »

*Ben and Fenris used with permission*

Monday, April 25th
Rhodes, Greece
Max’s balcony

You did it. Way to bounce back. God damn this coffee is delicious. They have great coffee in Greece. I breathe in the familiar salt breeze from the water welcoming me every morning from my balcony.

Max: Back with another V-Log. We really should come up with a name for this thing since we’ve been at it for a few weeks. Leave your comments below, and I’ll pick a winner, and send you some merch of course. There is nothing more refreshing. I’m an east coast boy that grew up on the ocean. Coffee plus the ocean breeze is all I need to get me through the daily grind. What a night.  Last evening April 24th in Rhodes, Greece at the Diagoras Stadium I kept my promise. I walked into the stadium, stepped between those ropes and walked out with my spot locked in for Athens at Into The Void.

Man, am I happy that I pulled that one out. When that roulette wheel came to a stop on the Ultimate X, you bet your ass I was nervous. For starters, I hate heights. Always have, always will. Heights come with the territory though. You just have to keep your focus on the task at hand, and get the damn job done.

Max: I definitely needed this win. No doubt about it.  I stepped into that ring against Miles Kasey and Agostino Romano to secure my spot on the card at this year’s Into The Void 11. When the wheel stopped, it definitely put a smile on my face. Ultimate X over a damn pool. Not what I was expecting, but that’s the beauty of the Roulette division. You’ve got to adapt. That’s exactly what I did. I’ve been in my fair share of ladder matches over the years. I used that knowledge, and all of the tape I’ve studied on the Ultimate X match to throw together a game plan before the bell rang to the best of my ability. I got the job done, and ripped the X out of the sky and claimed my opportunity. It’s always a good day at the office when you can stay dry when water is the stipulation.

It was a great day at the office yesterday. Time for a refill. I’m going to be wired today.It’s a perfect morning for a run before my flight. Definitely need to knock that out before I take off. It’s too damn nice not to get out there. I’m taking advantage of every second I have here.

Max: At Into the Void I challenge for the Roulette championship with the opportunity to become just the 11th 2 time Roulette champion. It’s not lost on me that it potentially puts me in great company. Coming up in Lesbos, “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart gets his rematch, and his opportunity to get the championship back. Bill is pissed. Can’t say I blame him. That match was all kinds of insanity. The 12 Labours of Hercules was at another level.  Finn pulled out the win, bringing Bill’s 6 month reign to a crashing halt.

That sun is amazing. What a day. I’m going to be sad when this tour ends.

Max: Coming up in Lesbos, Finn Whelan defends his newly won Roulette Championship in an immediate rematch with “Bulldog”. I’ve got to admit, I’m not a huge fan of this situation. I’m the number 1 contender. I earned that last night. Bill lost. He could have rested up. Healed those nagging injuries that he’s been hiding. When you go on a run with a championship like Bill has, those little things start sneaking up on you. You push them aside. You convince yourself they’re not that bad. You’re fine. You’ve got a title to defend. You can’t take time off now.

Yep, we’ve all been there.

Max: I know the feeling all too well. So, what you do you push through. You bury it all. You bury it until you can’t hide it anymore. You hide it until you’re exposed. The 12 Labours Of Hercules exposed it all. Coming up in Lesbos is your chance to make things right. On any given night you can lose. When you’re competing in Sin City Wrestling, you are facing the best and the brightest that this business has to offer. You ran into Finn Whelan, and Finn had your number that night. He took your title. You’ve got the 2nd longest reign in the history of the division. It’s damn impressive. I’ll give you that Bill. I’m well aware of how hard that is.

He had a good run. I’ll give Barnhart that.

Max: Am I happy that this match is happening? Of course not, but Bill earned the rematch. It’s part of the game. I’ll be there in Lesbos scouting Finn and Bill. I’ve been watching my tape. As great as it is to have access to everything we need via YouTube and through the SCW website, there is no better way to scout an opponent then live and in person. Up close and personal. I’ll guarantee you this. You’ll both know that I’m watching. I plan on being in the front row this week.

No way I’d miss it. I’ve been scouting Bill since the Blast.

Max: Best of luck gentlemen. I’ll be waiting for you. See you in Athens. I think I’ll wrap this up here. Time to squeeze in a run at the beach before my flight leaves this afternoon. Thanks for watching. Don’t forget to like, subscribe, and hit that notification bell. I’ll see you next time.

Sunday, May 1st
Lesbos, Greece
Post Climax Control 330

The main event is over. No clear winner. Finn and Bill managed to compete to a draw in a tables match of all matches. Both champion and challenger crashed through the table at the exact same time to bring the championship rematch to an unfulfilling end. That’s where the story took a dramatic twist. You would think, as I was thinking at ringside while enjoying my adult beverage that Finn Whelan retained, that I’d be challenging him at Into The Void 11 as originally planned. “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart was the challenger. When you are the challenger, you have to beat the champion. That’s the whole point of the champion’s advantage. Since they both went through the table, Bill did not successfully defeat the champion. That’s 2 in a row against Finn Whelan that Bill couldn’t get the job done. I have to admit when Christian Underwood came out it wasn’t good. It wasn’t.

Max: What the actual fuck just happened out there!?

I’ll be honest with you. I’m fit to be tied right now as my Gram used to spout at me at least once a week growing up. She put up with way too much with the foolishness she had to deal with when it came to the Burkes. But yeah, I knew when Christian marched out there that Athens was about to change for me in a huge way. I was just waiting for him to fuckin’ say it. And that’s when my beverage went flying. Bill was added to Into The Void 11, and he was added to my Roulette Championship opportunity making it 2 straight triple threats for this guy right here. It’s bullshit, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I;m on a rampage right

Fenris: Oh boo fucking hoo! Poor Max. I have to share a championship match.

Ben: ...

Ben always chooses his words wisely. I can see him working overtime in his head right now. He’s just waiting for the calm in the storm that’s brewing. He knows my fuse, and he knows exactly what’s happening right now. Just stand back, and stay out of the way.

Max: Hey! This is...

Fenris: Hey nothing. At least you’re getting one. You are so full of shit. Get your head out of your ass.

Ben: What I think he’s trying to say is yeah it’s bollocks, but you still got the shot. Hell, it’s how you got the shot. It’s how you won the GRIME championship. Suck it up, cupcake, and focus. You got this.

There is never any sugarcoating when it comes to professional wrestlers. We’re going to shoot straight with you every time. Well, as long you’re not politicking you will. I know with Ben that I never have to worry about that scenario... ever. I’ve known this man for far too long to get anything but the brutal truth. Fenris, I’m just getting to know you, but I know why Ben wanted us to get together. We’re cut from the same cloth. The 3 of us are professionals that have dealt with it all over the years. We’ve seen it all. We’re no strangers to adjusting on the fly with little to no notice. There have been plenty of wrenches thrown our way during our careers in this industry.

Max: Yeah, I know. I’m just saying...

Fenris: You’re just saying nothing. You’ve got 2 weeks to get your head out of your ass, and show them what Christian just did means jack shit. You’ve got 2 weeks to get ready for the biggest of your life.

Ben: In 2 weeks mate you’re going to do what you did 2 years ago. You’re going to go in there, and remind them just who the fuck Max Burke is. You are going to do what you do best. You’re going to scrap with Finn Whelan and “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart.

Max: Yeah, I am! I’m strapping that belt around my waist for a 2nd time. You’re right though. This is where I’m at my best. I showed that last week. I’ll show it again in Athens. I don’t care what the wheel lands on.

Fenris: My job is done here.

Ben: Mr. Motivation, the one and only... Fenris.

And off he goes. He’s not totally wrong though. They snapped me out of it, after I had my little hissy fit.

Max: Seriously though, thanks. Just the shock of it all. I did not see this scenario coming. Name me another draw in a tables match. I dare ya. Pint on me if you can.

Ben: Mate we both know it’s your turn next time out. Nice try. I can’t off the top of my head.

Max: It is what it is. It wasn’t going to be easy at Into The Void, and you’re right, I do some of my best work in this damn division and I defended the Nightmare championship in these types of situations plenty. It’s nothing new for me.

Ben: You’re welcome brother. This changes nothing. You’re going to  Athens. You’re challenging for the Roulette Championship.You get the opportunity to join a pretty exclusive little club. Not many get to be a 2 time champ.

Max: Thanks brother. Time to get back to work. I’m taking this home in 2 weeks.

Saturday, May 7th
Athens, Greece
Private Tour

Max: Tolis, thank you for the adventure today my friend. You’re an excellent host and guide.

Tolis: Thank you Mr. Burke. You’re an excellent guest. Welcome to the Temple of Olympian Zeus. It was built in 131 AD in honor of Zeus.

Tolis really is the best tour guide I’ve ever had. This is worth every penny.

Max: Can I have a minute to soak it all in. Not often you can say you are dead center in the lore of Zeus and Olympia.

Tolis: Take your time, Mr. Burke.

Can’t get much better of a backdrop than the temple of a god to cut promo eh?

Max: Welcome to Athens. Behind me is a temple that was built to honor the god Zeus. If you ever get a chance to visit Athens, splurge and get the private tour. Tolis back there is top shelf. He knows his stuff.

Time to get down to business.

Max: Next Sunday, Into The Void 11 at Ano Liosia Olympic Sports Hall here in picturesque Athens, Greece I step into the ring with the current reigning, and defending Roulette Champion Finn Whelan and the former champion “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart in a triple threat championship match. It’s my opportunity to become a 2 time Roulette Champion, and join a list of names that have become synonymous with Sin City Wrestling. Names that include the likes of Goth, J2H, Griffin Hawkins and many more. I’m planning to join the club, and make it an even dozen.

It’s an impressive list of names. It’d be an honor to stick my name on it.

Max: “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart. Let me introduce myself to you as we haven’t had the pleasure of exchanging pleasantries. I was hoping to have that opportunity to do it earlier this year during the 10th Blast From The Past Tournament, but you ended up bowing out a lot earlier than even I expected. I really expected yourself and Masque to do much better than you did. I thought for sure I’d see you in the tournament, and I’d get to properly introduce myself to you. Took a little longer than expected, and the circumstances have definitely changed for both of us. But, here we are. I’m still befuddled with how we got here, but it is what it is. You’ve managed to weasel yourself into my match against the man you haven’t able to defeat, the current reigning and defending Roulette Champion Finn Whelan. I am the number 1 contender. I earned that distinction with a definitive victory in the Ultimate X against Miles Kasey, and Agostino Romano. I earned my way here. You didn’t get the job done twice against Finn, but you’re still here by fluke, and brash decisions by management that were not thought through in the slightest. Christian had no reason to make his way out after your match. You didn’t win. You didn’t put Finn through the table cleanly per the stipulations of the results of the roulette wheel. Finn retained his championship because of the outcome of your match as it should have been.

Okay, yes I’m a bit fired up.

Max: This is bullshit, and everyone knows it. You don’t deserve to be in this match. You’ve had 2 chances to defeat Finn and it hasn’t happened. Go rack up a few wins, and work your way back to your title opportunities like everyone else has to. There was no need for you to be inserted into my championship opportunity. Yes, I’m pissed off about it. Yes, I’m going to take it out on both you and Finn when we step between the ropes at Into The Void 11. I don’t give a shit where the wheel lands next Sunday. No matter what the wheel decides for our fate, I will use it to unleash punishment unlike anything you’ve encountered.

I can feel my heart pounding through my chest. I glance down, and I catch a glimpse of my knuckles, white as snow, as I involuntarily clench my fist tightly. I cherish this feeling. I love this feeling. It’s almost time to unleash this feeling. There is nothing I love more than dishing it out, and receiving it back as good as I dish it out with whoever I tangle with when it’s time to put it all on the line on the biggest stages.

Max: Next Sunday, I’m heading to Into The Void 11 with 1 goal, and 1 goal only in mind. I’ve noticed since I’ve returned to Sin City Wrestling that there appears to be a serious lack of knowledge, and respect attached to my name. I’m pretty fed up with it. Next Sunday my intent is violent. My intent is to beat the ever living shit out of both of these individuals. I’ve come to realise that this is the only way to truly correct the course. I need to dip into a place that I haven’t had to visit in a minute.

Flashes of past works of violent art dance in my head as I take the journey to the place that truly satisfies my urges.

Max: Gentlemen, we are going to dance at Into The Void 11. I’m going to dip so far into my toolbox of pro wrestling you will quickly come to the bitter realisation that you’re in there with an architect that is years ahead of you. You won’t be able to fathom just how screwed you are until it is too late. You’re the apprentice. Into The Void 11 is going to be a master class in professional wrestling violence at its highest calibre.  2 years ago at Into The Void 9 I became the World Nightmare Champion by competing in 2 matches, and taking on both of the Monstimals Lord Raab, and that big goof Samuel MacPherson. On that night, they learned exactly what I was capable of inside this squared circle. At Into The Void 11, I’m going to become a champion again. I’m going to become a 2 time Roulette Champion. I’m going to remind everyone just who the fuck Max Burke is.

Offline finnwhelan

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Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #3 on: May 07, 2022, 11:43:27 PM »
He hated it.

The entirety of that last match with Barnhart, the entire fact that he had to not only defend his title against him, and the fact that he couldn’t end the possibility of this idiot taking his championship? It ate at him. Finn Whelan wasn’t the type to ruminate on a loss, or a lack of a loss, or an even semi-loss. Draws weren’t his kind of thing, and if he did end up losing? Whatever. That was the nature of the sport, and there was no way around it. But he hated his last showing under the Sin City banner, and he hated every bit of everything that happened. He should have been able to put Bill through the table. He should have been able to finish it decisively, but if it hadn’t been for his fuckin’ stupid groupie of a wife getting involved in every which way and trying to make it an uneven battle, perhaps maybe Finn could have made it.

But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, what came out of Climax Control was a clusterfuck and left a stain on his record that his simple giving a lack of a fuck could do. And Kayla.

Fucking Kayla.

This was the second time that she’d interfered in something of his. His match with his little brother, something that had taken a significant amount of time to mount an offensive, put together a match and get settled alone had been completely destroyed at her hands when she’d whacked him with a pipe before the match could even begin. Even worse, she’d tried to feign surprise when the footage was revealed. And now? He was certain that she would have tried to explain that she was just helping him even the odds. After all, she had faced Bea and simultaneously destroyed her just as he’d done to Bea’s husband the previous week.

But he also wasn’t stupid. How many times in the previous week had Kayla sat there and complained about not being booked? She lived in his home, and she sat on the couch eating Taki’s (after, of course, training), and pointed at the television and complained about all of the people in Sin City that were getting chances and she wasn’t even getting one. He wouldn’t put it past her to have used her altruistic moments to elevate her station and get booked on the eleventh edition of Into the Void. Not that it worked. Conveintently, she still didn’t have a match, while he was now fucked. Triple Threats were more about luck, not skill, and he was going to have to take out two for the price of one in a match he had no fucking clue was going to be like.

He’d avoided her since. He’d speedily left the Grecian arena, he flew home alone, and he sat in his office at Wolfslair for far too many more hours than he should have. It took a lot to get under The Seattle Saint’s skin – and this had done it entirely. Kayla Richards had settled herself underneath his skin, and not in the way she would have liked to have.

With his size twelve boot propped clanking against the desk as he propped it up, leaning backwards in his chair, Finn popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth with his eyes focused on the monitor. It was a Bella Madison promotional video, and he was set to review it, provide feedback, and help her adjust to get maximum effectiveness the next week. Just like all of the younger upstarts in Wolfslair, they all seemed to lack the one thing that made the older ones more vindictive. Anger. Spite. Even Dickie’s Australian hetero-life mate seemed to have a bit of a vindictive streak, and the rest of them…they needed to learn it. They needed to learn how to decimate someone by pulling every little hair off of someone’s arm and detailing it with as much chaos and entropy that they could.

Although he wasn’t quite sure how to communicate that.

Nevertheless, he raised an eyebrow and tapped his pen on his clipboard. Evaluate. Who is your opponent? Why are they here? How much drive do they have? How much do they want this? If they’re able to take you apart, what can you push past in all of their bullshit and find the one thing that will destroy them? Scribble, scribble, scratch – it was the only noise that could be heard besides the sound of Bella’s voice, describing her wants and her desires.

He was surprised when she showed up, despite how much he didn’t really want to see her right now. She pressed a manicured fingertip against the nameplate on the door, black polish gleaming in the light. She traced his last name, a smirk rising on her lips before she dropped her hand and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. There were no stiletto sounds, and judging by the person, he didn’t expect there to be. Kayla wasn’t comfortable in heels, said they were for the skanks of the industry and that if she needed her ass to look good, she’d just not wear pants. She was the queen of saying outlandish phrases, trying to get Finn to be surprised or shocked by her behavior. But he knew what she was doing and refused to give her the time of day. Refused to be surprised, refused to say anything. Planned ignoring, or so he was told it was.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. In all honesty, he figured if he spoke less to her now, she’d decide that it’d be too boring here for her and she’d leave. She wasn’t easy to please, or to entertain, and he wasn’t about to go out of his way to do so. So he glanced back at the monitor, scribbling a bit more. Instead, she walked to the opposite side of the room, looking at all of the replicas of championships that he owned. He figured they looked better hanging in a wrestling gym than they did at home. She reached out to touch one of his World Championships with the same finger. “I miss these. I haven’t held one of these in a year or so…

Kayla wasn’t going to leave. Finn sighed, dropping his feet down to the ground with a thud and grabbing for his mouse, clicking pause on the video and looking up at her. He didn’t inquire. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her with those icy blue eyes of his as if waiting for her to pick up his body language and exit stage left. Kayla also wasn’t stupid, but she was very good at ignoring tell tale signs if it wasn’t in her prerogative or if something wasn’t her idea. She was a manipulative cunt, and Finn wasn’t interested in it. Not today. He’d had enough of that over his lifetime, thrown at him by the rainbow-haired bitch on the main training floor outside his office.

She turned her head and looked at him. She was wearing a leather jacket - his, which wasn’t another surprise – and he could hear it crinkle as she tightened her arms underneath her chest. Kayla was masterful in the “I-look-like-a-ho-but-call-me-that-and-I’ll-kill-you” persona, and he knew she was pushing up and in her cleavage for a nice look. The amount of times she threw herself at him – while also being turned down in the same breath – wasn’t laughable. It’s just what it was. She crossed the fourteen-by-fourteen foot office again and walked around his L-shaped desk, setting her backside down on the desk where his foot had been while she looked down at him.

For a moment, she waited for him to speak. When he didn’t and merely leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table and setting his chin on his thumbs and his hands over his mouth as he looked at her, she licked her lips and looked around at the office. Wolfslair regalia hung all over the place, but she and he both knew he didn’t give a flying fuck about the camraderie of the team. He wasn’t in anything to represent it, like the rest of them did in SCW. He didn’t wear Wolfslair on his sleeve, but he would defend it when it came down to it. “I remember when this wasn’t as big of a thing as it is now, Wolfslair. I mean, I had to get a visitor’s pass at the front desk and be scanned in.” She started again.

No response, again.

Someone is going to be fucked off when they see my name here. Didn’t think I’d ever show up, but…you know…when the person you’re living with isn’t talking to you…” Kayla trailed off. The only response she got was a lift of his eyebrow. “I feel like I should have known that Alicia was here too. Ran into her on my way over to your office. She had to point me in the right direction, but I was pretty sure she wanted to take my head off. Looks like she was on her way to an appointment. Hope it was the psych that she needs, am I right?” She chuckled lightly, expecting that this would get him to laugh with her. Any insult at Alicia usually did. But not this time. “Also Mercer’s kid is here, and so is that stupid fuckin’ Australian your little brother hangs out with. Have you heard from Dickie lately?

All things Finn would have responded to. And yet, he still did not. Finally, this frustrated Kayla enough for her to lose her calm. She was trying to be conversational, she was trying just to talk to him and get him to talk back to her, but it wasn’t happening. She slammed her hands on the desk, jutted her head downwards as she slammed her eyes shut and yelled, “What the fuck did I do to make you fucking give me the fucking silent treatment?!

Another man might have buckled under Kayla’s screams. Her ex-fiance certainly would have assuaged the situation better than he would. Kayla wasn’t easy to appease, but she was malleable despite her own intentions of stoic shittery. But Finn did not. Instead, he looked at her, up and down, and then rose to his feet. With slow, calm steps, he walked to the door of the office she left hanging open, and shut it. There was no need for the rest of Wolfslair to hear this…though he fully expected some of their noses to be pressed up to the window. Kayla swung around, planting her feet in the floor as he turned and looked back at her. She was attempting to block his path. It wouldn’t work.

I’m going to say this once.” He started, sidestepping her. He grabbed for a stack of papers and shoved them into the overhead of his desk, not looking at her. “Stay out of my shit.

Is that what you’re giving me the cold shoulder about?” Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “That I went ahead and interfered in your match?” She pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring slightly. “That stupid bitch Bea was interferring left and right, and if it wasn’t for me getting rid of her, you’d probably not have the Roulette Championship right now. You should be thanking me.

Finn closed the overhead calmly. Which was probably much calmer than he actually felt. But that was the thing about him. He never wore his emotions on his sleeve. He’d learned too many times that allowing that meant allowing far too many people into his business, into his life. The more he was a dick, now, the easier it was to be alone. “I don’t need help, Kayla. It kills legitimacy. Now people have the thought that I needed someone else to help me deal with Barnhart, a man who hasn’t done shit in this company. How the fuck am I supposed to prove that I’m not just Roulette material, but World Champion material, if I’m fucking getting saved?

No one gives a shit, Finn. Everyone saw how underhanded it looked,” she pointed at the championship on the wall, “and that is still in your possession. And it’s going to stay in your possession, even if I have to help you. No, you don’t need help. But–

This isn’t the Girl Scouts of America, and you’re not getting any Brownie points.

Kayla sputtered for a moment, her nose curling. She was British, after all. “The fuck are the Girl Scouts?

Finn turned and looked at her, shaking his head. “Look, I’m sorry you’re not getting booked, but–

Kayla slammed her hand to her clavicle overdramatically and gasped, appearing sarcastically shocked that he would say such a thing to her. “How dare you say that to me! I know you’re frustrated. I’m going to give you a pass.

Of course I’m fuckin’ pissed, Kayla!” Finn snapped slightly, his deep voice raising, the Irish lilt in his voice evident. “I know it’s somethin’ that you have no understandin’ of, but I tend to have some sliver of integrity when it comes to championship matches, and you coming in there and trying to quote-unquote even the score is complete bullshit! I shoulda lost it. I shoulda been done and Barnhart woulda had at least a fuckin’ terrible goddamned reign as champion, but I wouldn’t ‘ave be sittin’ here with a needs help sticker on me damn forehead!

He hated sounding like that. He hated sounding like his father, but that’s what happened when he was frustrated. God, he remembered the fights he had with his ex-wife, when she’d turn around and use that against him. He had no control of his language, always reverting to what he grew up around. His father was a pure-blooded Irishman who immigrated to the United States when Finn was a year old. His mother too. For whatever godforsaken reason, they’d chosen Seattle to settle. His father was, ironically, the owner of a well-to-do pub, but also a drunk, and he’d scream at his family whenever he got frustrated…or more. And Finn? He always reverted to it when he was mad. There was always a slight accent to his tone, but it was so much more pronounced when he was angry.

And now?

He was a foot away from her yelling in her face. Not the happiest place for him to be. And Kayla? Her past was a dark place, and in order to move away from that, she’d become a hardened bit of stone. Which seemed to be her expression right now. Finn wasn’t about to say sorry, and neither was she.

She didn’t diminish. She only stood up taller and stared him down – which was hard, considering their difference in height. She was tall, but Finn was six-foot-four, and he’d always stand a head taller. She turned her head to the side slightly, narrowed her eyes, and smirked a little bit. Which unnerved Finn initially, but he realized what was about to happen. Kayla wasn’t going to go down the serious road. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a sorry, or the respect that he felt he deserved. Instead, she was going to put on her mask, and she was going to wear her pseudo-whore persona because it was easier to do than to have an actual conversation to try and get him to calm down.

Of course, Daddy.” She replied, pursing her lips slightly. “I’ll remember that you like threesomes in the future.

For fuck’s sake, Kayla–

No, it’s totally okay.” She bit her lip suggestively. She reached up for her black hair hanging down her shoulders and back, and tugged on it slightly, twirling it between her fingers. “Next time, I won’t interfere. I’ll just watch. And if you lose, I’ll be there to nurse your wounds in the back.


I’ll be sure to have the flat cleaned and the kitchen in order when you get home,” she turned, taking her fingernail and dragging it along the desk. “Maybe a massage for you, if you’re lucky. Before your match, too, next week. Use some extra special oil. So you can be good and ready when Max Payne–


And the combo of Bea and Bill fuck you all the way up the ass.

Kayla reached for the door handle, and she opened it with a jerk of her hand, letting it slam into the brick wall behind it. She didn’t bother to say goodbye, or look behind her when she did so. Finn frowned and tossed the papers he was handling onto the desk. He could hear Kayla screech at someone in the hallway to get out of her fucking way and he closed his eyes. “Fuck…” he sighed.

He dropped into his chair and propped his feet up again. A moment later, someone else appeared in the doorway, a smirk on her face and her eyebrow raised. His rainbow-haired ex-wife shook her head. “I see you’re still such a charmer.

Finn didn’t say anything again. He just raised his hand and flipped her off accordingly.


I’ve always had my eyes on Sin City. Not because I was interested in any particular competitor, but more or less because I knew a bit of the roster and thought the product was sound. In a world where companies primarily work bi-weekly, the intense schedule of week after week can be a grueling and unknowingly difficult process. It’s clear with the size of the roster that SCW has that it works for them, and everyone gets a moment to shine eventually. Into the Void XI, like every Supercard, is an opportunity for that. It creates a valid environment where people need to bring their all, their fire, their thunder, and ensure that every eye is on them.

Eventually, those of us in the mid-card or the lower card hope that we can move up higher, be surprising, be the one that the executives at the company see and realize they’re just as ready for the top championships in this place, or for a spot at the top of the card. Anyone can argue that Matthew Knox really just got a championship opportunity because he was friends with Mac Bane in the beginning, but at the end of the day, it’s Knox v Bane for the World Championship. There’s fourteen matches on this card. Some are just the ends of feuds. Some are for championships. Some are the opportunity for someone to prove they deserve the championships shots, or to run the show for a day, or whatever floats someone’s boat.

There’s no reason that someone like Kat Jones should be opening up the card. I remember a few years ago, Kitty-Kat…me facing you in the Shogun tournament and defeating you. That was a hell of a match, and one that absolutely left me in pain for a few days afterwards. I know that intergender isn’t really Sin City’s thing, but watching her sitting in the top of the card kills me. You’ve got Goth facing off against the angsty Jack Washington for the Internet Championship, The …for a Day matches, where both of my Wolfslair counterparts are participating. It’s interesting to see, but it’s not the same.

Speaking of Wolfslair, I feel like people think I’m of the same vein. The same arguments. The same stories. What they fail to realize is that I’m another wolf entirely. I am not the same as any of them, but I wear the banner because I like what it represents. Skill. Determination. The things that I was lacking so many years ago.

I was here a couple of years ago in this vicinity. I remember two years ago participating in the King for a Day match. I don’t remember actually doing it, but I knew I was there for it. I lost, obviously, and not surprisingly. You see, two years ago, I wasn’t ready for this company. I wasn’t ready to come back to this sport and put in as much effort as I had in my bones. I wasn’t willing to, I wasn’t hoping to. I just wanted to do something, and I ended up fucking up. I figured I’d stop before I killed myself.

But the skies became clearer, the world a little bit brighter, and all of a sudden…I found myself back here.

It hasn’t been easy. I’m not going to lie and say I’m the best goddamn thing that crossed the line and signed a contract. My first few matches here, I was given opportunities based on my name, and I hadn’t earned them. I intended fully on making a run from the get for the World Championship in signing up for Blast From the Past and we all saw how that worked out. Another opportunity in the form of proving my worth between five other men and getting my ass handed to me by…Goth and another fuck I don’t even remember the name of right now…that I’m actually not even certain if they still participate in this company. Both fuck ups. Both hindered my rise.

Starting at the bottom never seemed like a bad idea, though. The Roulette Championship I earned a shot at a little less than fifty days ago, and already, my reign seems like it’s controversial in all ways and forms. Bill and I went through a table together – yes, I know, how terrible – and we fucked up the history of the championship by not having a clear, defined winner. I’d say I’m sorry, but this is what glues people to their televisions, right? Unpredictability? Change? Sorry Christian, but I’m not going to apologize for something that ratings needed. I’m no Mac Bane or Amber Ryan, but I am changing the game up even if it’s merely a fuck-up.

I’ma take that as a win.

But nevertheless, on a card of most prominent competitors in Sin City right now, myself and my cohorts Max Burke and Bill Barnhart are all sitting pretty at match eleven on an action packed card. Right before Austin James Mercer gets to try and one up five other men for the opportunity to run a whole show.

If you win and you don’t book me in a good match, Aus, I’m reminding you for the second time I fucked your stepmother.

…I mean, who hasn’t?

But nevertheless, I find myself for a third time facing Bill Barnhart. I suppose I should be pleased about this, but surprise surprise, I’m not. I mean, I’m sure Bill would like to spin it that I’m afraid of facing him again but you know what, that really just isn’t it. It’s just that I hate saying the same things about people over and over without them having enough or ample time to change their behavior. Not that he would, right? I mean, he’s still spouting shit from the 1960’s as relevant information and trying to bring it through as common fact. What else could there be said?

Or do we just resort to lies and tactics to lay down as fact?

I saw what you did the previous week, Bill. I saw that you literally sat there and repeated the same goddamn routine for the thirtieth time and thought it was going to work. You put on your coolkid hat and tried to look like the fuckin’ dog from Animal Crossing and lay down some cool, cool facts as if you were smokin’ a joint and acting like you knew everything in the universe. So highly enlightened. Very much wow. In the end, it was all very laughable and I chuckled a bit.

So let me be and tell you why your irrelevant mumblings aren’t valid, shall I?

I think we’ve all seen and known that it doesn’t take someone being bigger than someone else to defeat them. Case in point, look at my little bro. Dickie Watson remained the FIGHT! NYC champion for a grand total of two hundred and ninety six days. He won it at the beginning show, and he never lost it. Not against their best. Not against the best. Dane Preston, Paul Montuori – yes, of the same family that Chris Page’s got in his little enterprise – and even Shawn Warstein couldn’t shake him of the championship. Time and time again, they came at him, and he won.

Now, you might be asking why that’s relevant here. Let me inform you exactly why.

He’s five-foot-eleven and barely one-eighty.

…yeah, it doesn’t take anyone being fuckin’ stronger or bigger to be better in this business, and people tend to cheer for the Underdog even if they’d like to take a chainsaw to their head. And as to your claim that you’re a better wrestler than me? I’ve got a shitton of accolades and I took your championship from your shoulders – you really want to play that game? And as for your analogy of Gary Coleman, who probably is really tired of being brought up by irrelevant fucks like you…what the fuck are you talking about, hm? It was luck.

Luck that I figured out to wiggle out of your damn piledriver?

Luck that I traded blows with you to the point I was able to send your head down into the top of the cage and pin you for three?

Luck that we might have been six and six but I actually outwrestled the fuck out of you?

You are literally trying to argue the definition of whataboutism and I’m not here for it, and neither is anyone else.

You believe that. And while we’re at it, let’s point out how much help you had from Bea this last week, shall we? I’ll leave that for the following week because, to be perfectly honest, there is so much that I would like to say about it. The fact of the matter, Bill, is that you create arguments in your head that you think are valid, and then you walk to the ring thinking you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread #2. What have you done? Five times as Roulette Champion? Cool. Much aspiration. Wow.

I sincerely hope you’re hearing the sarcasm in my voice.

I will defend this championship with everything in me, and I will keep it for as long as I have the power to. But don’t you for one second think this is where I’m going to stop. I have aspirations. I have goals. And I won’t quit until that top championship is in my hands. I won’t quit until this company realizes the power that they have under my hands. And I won’t quit until I’ve buried the rest of you in the ground underneath my very bones.

You first of all, you fat fuck. You don’t deserve to be in this match again, let alone for a championship. Get fucked, mate.

And Max. Let’s have a conversation, shall we? You and Myra, you did great things going up into Blast From the Past. You got all the way up to Mac and his tag-team partner, where you had a shot at his championship…and then you were eliminated. That had to suck. I mean, when I look back on it, I guess I have a better excuse for my failures since my partner couldn’t be fucked to actually show well. But it is what it is, right? You guys went head-to-head and you fought hard. It just wasn’t enough. You were eliminated from the competition, and your dream of rising higher never happened again.

In doing my research, of which I probably should do more, but you know what it’s like, last couple hours of the day…you’ve had the Roulette, you’ve been the SCU Nightmare Champion…something like that. After you failed to defeat Mac, you disappeared…and then came back against Austin, who defeated you. And then…was it Agostino and Miles? Is that who you defeated for these championships?

The men I’ve already defeated as well?

Agostino, you just have to blow in his direction and he falls over. Miles works hard, but he just doesn’t bring enough. So, the facts are that you…earned your championship spot and now you have to contend with Bill and me in order to get the Roulette title. And none of us have any clue what the match is going to be until we actually do it, right?

Oh man, you’re fucked.

I know you’ve stated that you live for the thrill of the fight. The one that comes from not knowing what the match is going to be, but let me tell you…it’s not just living for it. It’s being able to realize what match you have, strategize, and carry out in many, many steps all at the drop of a dime. If you don’t remember from watching, Bill and I had to do the twelve trials thing, and…fuck, that was a lot of stipulations. Sometimes he won. Sometimes I won. But in the end, it was me using my brain, my skills, my speed, my knowledge of the ring that got me to the place where I am. And being buddies with Fenris and Ben Jordan isn’t going to save you.

Oh jeez, how observant of me, right?

Mate, you have a very calm presence, which is nice, but at the end of the day, I wonder how much you actually want this. At the end of the night, I know the fact that you have to face both of us is grating on you. The look on your face after Christian told you how it would be was priceless. It’s…just not about just saying you’re gonna win, which is what I saw from you against Miles and Agostino. Actually, in every single one of your matches. You’ve been like, I’m gonna bring it. I’m gonna defeat you.

Rah. Rah. Rah.

I don’t see aspirations. I don’t see the drive. I see  you bouncing for a second, coming back, getting tossed to the wolves and then coming back only to get eaten for a second time. I’m not a nice competitor. I’m not a nice human being, to be perfectly honest, and I don’t give a flying fuck about what I end up doing to anyone in that ring. I might say good luck to you, but I don’t mean it. I want you at your best. I want you to be certain that you want this, and I want to watch the light and happiness leave your eyes as I’m the one who has the championship raised in the end.

It doesn’t matter what kind of match comes out of this, gentleman…I’m coming for the throat. The Roulette Championship will remain in my hands when we walk out of Athens, Greece next week.

Come at me with your best.

Because you deserve every bit of my worst.


The city of New York never slept. It never would sleep. Too many people lived on its plane at too many times. For some, it was the place to be everything. To want for nothing. Parties, clubs, such a melting pot of personalities and people, all together for the same purpose: life.

Finn shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket (he’d obviously commandeered it back from Kayla) as he stepped onto the sidewalk from his flat’s gated door. He looked left, then right, and then jutted across the stopped traffic over to the opposite side of the street, heading right into Central Park without really giving a shit if anyone was watching him.

It took a few minutes, but he stopped at a tree that had a bench on it. Sitting there was another man. One with blonde hair and a white cloth covering his face and his nose. He was Japanese, and he appeared to be flanked by two other men who clearly were his bodyguards. Not that the man needed them, per se. Nevertheless, as Finn approached them, he stood, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked at him.

Finn!” He stated the other man’s name with a smile on his face, a joyful tone in his words. He smiled widely as Finn scowled brighter. The man’s accent was strong, but it didn’t seem to matter. Finn understood him all the same. “It’s been such a long time. I’ve been working with your little brother to decipher his family…it’s been a wonderful time, kyodai.

What’d you want?” Finn’s voice was sharp. He shook his head and sucked in his teeth as he crossed his arms.

Not even small talk will work for you…” he shook his head again, sighing. A moment later, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. One of the other men walked up and handed him an envelope. The Japanese man handed him it with a smile. “In my research, I stumbled on some…interesting intelligence that I figured you’d might want to see.

Finn looked at the manilla envelope, and then looked up at the man once more, swiping it a second later and shaking his head. “I swear to fuck, the stuff you get me into…

The Japanese man sat back down, watching as Finn opened the envelope and pulled some papers out. He peered at them the best he could in the darkness, and then paused on the second page. His eyes widened. The man nodded his head. “Yes, I figured you’d do that. Next, you’ll ask me what the fuck this is. This, Finn, is a paternity test. You’ll find the DNA sample was from a female. And you’ll also find that the female in question does not have the same father as you.

Finn slowly looked at the paperwork, and then he turned his head, his eyes wide. “ you’re saying…

That’s exactly what I’m saying.

He paused for a moment, raising his eyebrow, and then flicking through the rest of the paperwork. He shook his head, and he shoved it back into the envelope. The Japanese man looked confused, but nevertheless, took the envelope back when he was handed it again. “You do not want it?

Later. I’ve…I’ve gotta process it.

Very well. I will meet with you tomorrow. You know the place. Be there early. There’s much to discuss.

...I…okay. Yeah.

Finn nodded, turning on his heel with just as much celerity as he had in approaching the men. He stopped for a second, out of earshot of both his flat and the people, and probably a lot of others. He closed his eyes, raised his head, and then inhaled slowly through his nose. He then grit his teeth and shook his head.


Offline Andrew

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    • Bill Barnhart
Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #4 on: May 09, 2022, 07:28:44 AM »


Narrator:  Bill Barnhart is ready to take back his Roulette Championship. I won’t ruin his presentation by telling you what he told me so I’ll back off and let Bill have the camera.

The scene shifts to the arena in the Ano Liosia Olympic Sports Hall in Athens, Greece. We see Bill and Bea Barnhart sitting near the wrestling ring where the matches will be held for Into the Void XI. They are sitting at the announcer table where Jason Adams and Belinda Simone present their match comments. Bill is dressed in blue jeans, a black pullover shirt, and white sneakers. Bea is similarly dressed in blue jeans but she is wearing a short-sleeve light blue button shirt and she is wearing black sneakers.


Bill:  Well, Finn, you tried to get someone to interfere in our match to get a cheap win but it backfired on you. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ll try to make the claim that Kayla Richards came to the ring to attack you and not me. Nice try but only a moron would believe that line of bullshit! If her intention wasn’t to interfere in the match to help you get a cheap win then why did she take a shot at me and Bea? Yeah, punk, try to explain that away! That’s what I thought. Friggin’ lying dip shit dumb ass! Also our previous match was mine but due to an unfortunate little thing both of us fell off the ropes and went through the table at the same time. Apparently our Referee wasn’t fully trained on how Roulette Rules matches end which is with a win and never a draw. So with the Referee calling the match a NO DECISION Christian Underwood ran to the ring and totally slam dunked the Referee on their decision on the match and then he fixed it so that you couldn’t get away with a cheap win. The result of that match caused Christian Underwood to assign me as the third wrestler in the Roulette Championship match at Into the Void XI. Having me assigned to this match is the death blow to your reign as Roulette Champion.

Bea:  Finn your least concern in this match is Max Burke. Yes he talks shit and hurls threats but he’s as harmless as a fly buzzing around a pond full of Frogs. Just as a fly buzzing around a pond full of Frogs gets snagged and eaten by the Frogs so Max Burke will find out, immediately upon the sound of the bell to start the match, that Bill is winning the match regardless of what you and he think.

Bill:  Thanks for the supportive comments Bea. And, Bea, please make sure if that ignorant asshole Kayla Richards shows up at ringside to try to rig the match again that you, and whoever else is available, takes her out to where she won’t came back for a very long time.

Bea:  Will do Bill.

Bill:  As for you, Max, you probably thought you would have an easy match against Finn Whelan when you thought it was just going to be you two involved in the match. Well I damn sure surprised the hell out of you eh? Now you’re not facing one pathetic Finn Whelan, you’re facing one pathetic Finn Whelan and one awesome, amazing, talented, and determined, Bill Barnhart. Just when you thought you were going to stand behind the fan and let the shit hit the fan along comes Bill Barnhart. Suddenly you find yourself in front of the shit throwing fan instead of behind it and it is me, Bill Barnhart, who is behind the fan throwing the shit into the fan to splatter on you. Talk all the crap you want but that’s not going to get you a win in our match!


Bea:  We’ll take a short break from comments on Bill’s match as we need to check in on Iris and Pete the Cactus. Senor Vinnie told me he was taking them to the Spa so they could relax and chill for a time. They have surveillance cameras so we can log into them on our cell phone to check on them. Just give us a few minutes and then we’ll return to comments on Bill’s match at Into the Void XI.

Bea allows the camera person to be included when she logs into the surveillance camera at the Spa. We see Pete the Cactus and Iris sitting in a hot tub sipping drinks. Bill immediately notices two disturbing things.

Bill:  What the F**K??? Bea! Iris has taken off her pink diamond-studded dog collar. That means she’s nude in the hot tub with Pete the Cactus! She never removes her dog collar except when we give her a bath! I’m going to call Senor Vinnie and. . .

Bill and Bea are shocked when they see Pete the Cactus stand up in the hot tub and they notice Pete doesn’t have any shorts or swim trunks on which means Pete is also nude. Bill dials Senor Vinnie’s number on his cell phone.

Senor Vinnie:  Senor Bill. . .how are you doing?

Bill:  How am I doing? How the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m watching surveillance video of Pete the Cactus and Iris in a hot tub at the Spa you brought them to. Pete doesn’t have any clothing on and Iris took off her pink diamond-studded dog collar which means she’s nude also! Get over there immediately and get those two out of the spa and properly dressed. Me and Bea can’t go as we’re in the middle of airing comments for my my Roulette Championship match at Into the Void XI.

Senor Vinnie:  Oh, Bill, you are so determined. I will take care of Pete and Iris within a few minutes as I’m next door to the Spa. Just watch on the surveillance camera.

After a few minutes. . .

>Bill and Bea watch the surveillance camera and they see Senor Vinnie enter the Spa and approach the hot tub where Pete the Cactus and Iris are located. Senor Vinnie drags Pete out of the hot tub and places a pair of swim trunks on him. He then drags Iris out of the hot tub and returns her pink diamond-studded dog collar to her neck. Senor Vinnie then starts to escort Pete and Iris out of the Spa but he stops to look into the surveillance camera and he gives a thumbs up to Bill and Bea who are watching him then he continues on and leave the Spa with Pete and Iris.


Bill:  Glad we got that situation resolved with Pete and Iris. Next on my agenda is to get the situation resolved in my match against Finn Whelan and Max Burke. Just as Pete got caught with his pants down, and Iris got caught removing her pink diamond-studded dog collar which is her one clothing item, so Finn and Max, you two will get caught with your guard down and your weak slow-working brains won’t be able to comprehend the beating I’m laying on you until the match is over and I’ve won the match.  It will be too late for you two once the bell has rung to end our match, Justin Decent announces me as the winner of the match and the Roulette Champion, and my hand is raised in victory over my win.

Bea:  What I want is a clean match, fully within the rules, with no interference, no cheating, no objects that are not allowed in this match.

Bill:  Me too Bea. Here’s the bottom line guys. I’m the Alpha Male in this wrestling match and you two are subordinates to me. I’m the boss and you’re the pathetic underlings. I’m the ass kicker and your asses are the ones getting kicked. I don’t give a damn about you two. Here’s a perfect graphic of how I feel about you.


Bea:  Nice graphic Bill. I love Bender.

Bill:  In closing I wish to present a graphic of a Muppet character everyone is familiar with. His name is Beaker and he is Professor Honeydew’s lab assistant. The Professor always has Beaker get involved in experiments and other not-yet-tested inventions of Professor Honeydew. Beaker always got injured in Professor Honeydew’s experiments and Beaker ran around in pain yelling MEEP MEEP MEEP! With that said here’s a graphic of what you two will be screaming in terror when I beat both of you into retirement.


Bea:  Beaker is hilarious.

Bill:  To close my comments for today I’ll leave you with these comments. You two standing on stage spewing forth lame jokes and insults reminds me of what happened with Chris Rock during his presentation at the 2022 Oscars. Will Smith, being the wimp that he is, took advice from his wife and he stormed on stage and slapped Chris Rock. With you two standing on stage, running your mouth spewing forth lies and bullshit, I feel like running up on stage and slapping some sense into you two like Will Smith did to Chris Rock. Have a nice time leading up to our match at Into The Void XI because you’ll not enjoy your lives after I destroy you in our match.

Bill informs the camera person he’s done with his comments for today and they call into the Network who switches from this camera feed back to regular programming which is airing at this time.

Offline finnwhelan

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Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #5 on: May 13, 2022, 02:14:40 AM »
No matter how many people sponsor you, no matter how many little “confidants” you use to bolster your image, you are still always going to be a worthless piece of shit that can’t aggrandize themselves higher than the lowest point on the totem pole. If you can’t speak for yourself without people somehow suddenly agreeing with you, then maybe you shouldn’t be shown so prominently.  SORRY, not sorry. Doublemint this bitch.


Bill…Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill…

A thud sounds as a singular combat boot hits the ground with such force it must still be connected to a foot. The dark walls of what looks to be a movie theatre is visible in the background, as well as the row of seats. It’s not quite Cinemark level quality, or even AMC Theatres…the seats are still that run down, godforsaken red seats from the early 1990’s. Film noir, or whatever, vintage. However, a hand reaches down to the visual, almost as if its reaching for the viewers themselves, but turns it, only to right the image and allow us to see who is speaking.

It’s none other than The Seattle Saint, Finn Whelan. The Roulette Champion in Sin City Wrestling. As is expected, with his deep voice, a small Irish lilt in it. He looks the perfect example of everything that his opponents are not: shredded, sleeveless t-shirt rocking some obscure metal band and tight jeans that clearly make women like Kayla Richards happy. He cocks his head to the side with a smile, pauses, and then shakes it, almost as if he’s terribly saddened.

I’m disappointed.

He presses his tattooed hand to his chest, patting it as if his heart has been damaged somehow.

I’m seriously disappointed in you. At first, I just thought it was your old fuckin’ age that made you a senile bitch, but I discovered too that you’re blind as a fuckin’ bat.” The disappointment on his face changes immensely as he raises one of his arched eyebrows and smirks. “You’d have to be in order to literally feed me the argument that you gave me in your paid sponsorship for Doublemint Gum…and, dude, just for the record, Wrigley’s Doublemint Gum tastes like bland ass rubber after two-point-five seconds of chewing – but I guess that’s perfect for you, isn’t it?

With an inclination of his head as if to say, ‘Mhm, sure. I know”, Finn rises to his feet while reaching for his championship, which he drapes over his shoulder with an assured amount of confidence. He tilts his head upwards as he speaks, inviting someone to come snap at him.

Fits the…well, you know,” he grins slightly, “the bill.” Ah, the pun. “I didn’t think I would have to defend my position, but here we are. In an age where legal issues for celebrities talking about defamation of character and losing money and status due to that defamation is all over television, it’s important to point out evidence of claims. Now, see, Bill, you sat there and like an idiot pointed out that Kayla came out to help me. First of all, I’ve never needed help in a match and I’ll deal with her as I see fit, but as for you sitting there, stating that? Is it a double standard that Bea is allowed to help you in your matches? Or were you just not wearing your bifocal contacts that entire match?

He leans forward for a second, narrowing his eyes.

Let’s roll the footage.

At this, Finn turns, literally jumps the stairs two at a time and then sits down just under the movie projector, grabbing a remote and twirling it in his hands. He points at the screen, and the view goes from him to the ginormous screen on the other side of the venue. For a second, we see the beginning of their last match – the very match that got them into this situation. Bill rushes Finn but–

–oop, nope, fast-forward to Bea moving around the corner, and Finn stepping forward to tell her to back off. A distraction for Bill to run him into the ring post, along with Jason Adams’, “Bea will do anything to help her husband” statement.

That’s one.

Fast-forward again to a good five minutes later, where Finn not only is able to blast Bill with a shot to his head and forcing him to lay on the table. He prepares for the REVELATION 6:4, but–

–oop! Nope, Bea slides in and pushes the table out of the way.

That’s two.

Another fast-forward to Bea sliding into the ring and pulling Bill out of the way as Finn’s on the top rope. It pauses just as Kayla is coming over the barricade, ready to hurl herself at Bea.

That’s three.” This time, the view comes back to Finn, who is rising from his seat and then heading once more for the stairs, walking down them as the camera moves backwards with him. “Three times, Bill. Three times where your wifey-poo got involved in a match, and you want to sit there and whine about how it’s not fair that Kayla involved herself? Because she evened the odds you tried to rig to be your own favor? I don’t condone Kayla’s actions, but I’m not going to say she was out of line. The entirety of the match, Bea was at your side, making sure you looked good and didn’t have somethin’ terrible happen to you. Yet, when the same situation is turned on you and there is no rigging of the odds, you fuck around and find out that you’re not the only one with some bullshit up your sleeve.

That being said, I didn’t invite Kayla to come down. No one invites Kayla Richards to do something and expects her to do anything for them, that’s something you’ve all gotta learn about her. So you sitting there and proclaiming that I asked her to do shit? This wouldn’t be the first time she’s gotten involved in something of mine trying to be a savior. But you should know better. Of all the fuckin’ people to sit there and lecture others about bullshit actions, it would be you. Look, I get you’re a few brain cells short of a functioning brain and the ones you do have don’t spark all that much, but this is just another instance of your hypocritical, idiotic behavior. Honestly, I’m kinda tired of hearing your mouth utter my name and act as if you belong in the same zone of proximity as me.

Nah, I didn’t step into Sin City with the boots that I should have used. I didn’t step into this place and put my best foot forward. I was pretty much out of fuckin’ work for two years because I decided that I didn’t have any use for the wrestling industry. While you were here, putzin’ around the low card, getting opportunities that you didn’t deserve with your substandard, subpar bullshit, I was deciding that this business left nothing for me to gain. But then I sat there and I watched everything move forward without me. Family. Friends. My little brother exceeded expectations in three years – he beat me, he held onto things longer than I did, and when I sat there and looked at myself in the mirror, it was something that I couldn’t accept. Not anymore. Not any longer.

He shook his head, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a narrow-eyed glance at the camera before sucking in his teeth and snapping his tongue against the back of them. He exhaled and then smiled slightly.

I had to learn that people like you had entered the wrestling world and made a fuckin’ mockery of it. Thirty-eight years old and nothing to show for it except for a wife from the Philippines who looks like she was bribed off of Tinder and then subsequently brain-washed to be attracted to a fat, dumpy fuck who wears pink and acts like they’re at the top of their game when the top of the totem pole is so far from their little grubby hands.

All this bullshit about us being on the same fucking level? Nah. No. Trip over my feet – suck my fucking asshole, man. Do you even watch tape back to see what you fucked up on? That match was a clusterfuck that I ended up succeeding in, and for the reasons of resiliency and candor. I take a lot, and I dish a lot of shit out. In the end, you being superior or whatever doesn’t hold in the candle of the truth, and I’d like you to run back the tape.

Here’s a synopsis: I DDT you into a chair – me, one. You submit me because I wasn’t willing to give up everything in the first two rounds of a match, you, one. Hang on, I fuckin’ spear you with a goddammed door, pin, me two. YOU FUCKING PULL MY TIGHTS FOR A PIN. Fenian Rising – slingblade your fuckin’ ass on the ground, me three. You get in a cheap ass clothesline, you get me in a boiler room brawl, and then for whatever reason, you get a nice DQ from me and a fuckin’ blow to your balls in the hopes that you don’t reproduce. Congrats, you get the fuckin’ up on me to five, but when it comes to the cage, you collide with the fuckin’ cage and a chair, and I get another pin. We drew in the fucking tables bit twice now, but so that put us at me five, you six. The ladder match I won, and then hold on. Hell in a Cell…where I drove your goddamned head into the fuckin’ top of the cell. You tell me, Bill, where my foot fuckin’ slipped. Tell me! Because I didn’t see it, and neither did anyone else in this fucking company!

Are you fucking batshit or just batblind?!

Finn looks visibly pissed now – and why shouldn’t he? Despite his current lackadaisical attitude when it comes to the fanbase, he’s not the type to cheat to win, or blatantly throw it around like a cheap, clear move. He was taught better than that. He was taught it was better to win by decimating his opponents, not by pulling tights or cutting corners to get ahead. People would learn best by understanding that with him. He’s not evil. He’s not underhanded. He’s bold, brazen and ablaze at this point.

He takes the title off his shoulder and he looks at it. There isn’t a sense of pride so much on his face, but more of resignation.

This? This title you deserve. This is a title like you and Max deserve, Barnhart. Once upon a time, I was saddled with a belt like this. I won that belt off of someone who moved on to do better things in the company. The belt was a gimmick driven championship that required its contenders to fight in brutal deathmatches to survive. I won it in part of a tournament, and then I went on to win that tournament. Sixteen matches, and I’d lost only one of them to earn a championship shot at anything I wanted. I wasn’t pinned, or defeated for the belt that I lost, because I simply moved forward and defeated the World Champion and dropped it.

When I see the Roulette Championship, I’m reminded of that. I’m reminded that a bitch of a competitor saddled me with a championship I didn’t deserve, but I made something out of it. It wasn’t hot potato’d in my hands, it didn’t jump around every three weeks to someone new because they were playing in the ball pit of McDonald’s playground filled with Hep-c and stomach flu. I understand the levity of championships, but this is not where I end. This is not where I stop, and this is not where my future lies. Out of decency, Bill, and out of respect for the competitors of this company, I’m going to stand here and I’m going to stand my fuckin’ ground. I will elevate this championship far above your head, above the Goths and the Vinnies and the Washingtons and the Crosses and the Jordans. Against all the names are that beloved in Sin City, and when I stand on the precipice of the championship that I deserve? You fuckers won’t know what hits you.

You? I doubt you’ll even remember that I knocked you off the pedestal you tried to put yourself on.

You’re less than the dirt under my feet, Bill. You won’t be defeating me any time soon. Nice try. Maybe if you tell yourself the lies you try to tell everyone else, you’ll believe them just a bit more…all that way to the fuckin’ mental hospital.

Fuck out of my way, Barnhart. You don’t belong here.


The remainder of the week had gone smoothly. So smooth, that Finn found it more than awkward, and just a little bit strange. There were no more outbursts at Wolfslair, no more random drop-ins. It seemed like it was the same routine, over and over again. He woke up early, pre-workout, cardio – which really meant a run through Central Park – shower, protein shake, arriving just at the crack of dawn to Wolfslair and sitting at his desk as he went through hours and hours of more tape. There was no Kayla stopping in. No Aaron giving him grief. Just silence, and for that, he was appreciative. Alicia seemed a little more sobered than normal, but it was nothing new. Aiden and Dickie traded blows training-style, and he watched them for a few minutes before he retreated.

He liked calm.

He liked the quiet.

It allowed him to think.

To a woman, a man who had more time to think was obvious that he was sitting in reflection of all the horrible ways he’d wronged her. But in this case, there was no thinking about what happened with Kayla. Oh, it was obvious she still lived in his home. He’d bought out the entire floor of apartments in his divorce settlement because he knew that sooner or later, he would adopt all the good attributes of the sister he’d once had and become the flophouse for wayward souls. It wasn’t like this sport didn’t take and destroy lives more than others, and it was probable that eventually, some distraught person in his circle would land themselves on his doorstep.

After all, isn’t that what happened with Kayla? Kayla, who broke off her engagement. Kayla, who pounded on his door and just walked in, the clothes on her back the only ones she’d brought with her. He’d expected her to stay for a few days and then she’d get back into her cunt-o-rama self and catch him on the flipside. But she didn’t. She stayed. She bought groceries, she put her toothbrush in the same cup as his, she walked around his house in his t-shirts and she spent nights on the couch with him watching ridiculous shows like Jeopardy only to stand up, scream at the television set the correct answer in Double Jeopardy and flip off the same screen when she was wrong.

He wasn’t stupid.

He knew exactly what she was doing.

But that’s the thing. Finn Whelan was a stubborn, stubborn man. He’d settled for bitch-o-saurus once, and he wasn’t going to do it again. Was Kayla his type? Absolutely. Did he care about her? Sure. Was she going to weedle his way into his bed? You betcha, at any cost. But Finn wasn’t interested in being a rebound lay for her, nor was he really interested in being her Justin Timberlake-beau from Friends with Benefits. It wasn’t his style, and until she could grow up and accept her flaws and learn from them, he would continue being her confidant and friend, but nothing more.

He knew she’d hate the process, but if this was something that she wanted, she would figure it out sooner or later.

Nevertheless, beyond the stray, wayward thought of the Dreamkiller herself, Finn immersed himself in his work, and in other avenues of importance. Like the moment where that little Japanese fuck that consistently barged into his life with some goddamned surprising event that floored him every time. This time was none too different, and left him wondering.

Story time! Once upon a time, a woman that is now certainly dead gave birth to a girl. That girl was given up for adoption. But because that girl had no redeeming qualities about her and was a selfish bitch in the end, she was never adopted and actually thrown out of the building. She made a name for herself. Certainly she did. She met Finn when he was but a young fourteen year old visiting his aunt on the streets of London. Aunt Katherine, who had her own children and didn’t really have time to spend with him. His name was Callien then, and this girl and him ran the fuckin’ streets with their own brand of meanacing terror. They weren’t much different – Finn hated his family and she had none. So they became their own family.

Until they weren’t anymore. At eighteen, Finn was thrown out from his own household, and until twenty-five, he made his own way in the world. That way included a lot of illicit drugs and bad decisions. Nevertheless, a fateful encounter was made with his ex-wife and himself at a gas station in Seattle. A scrappy fuck he’d become, and a bit of a drunk, but he’d fought off some dickbag that was about to mug the woman he would eventually marry and divorce. She absolutely could’ve fended for herself – she was a wrestler, after all – but he didn’t know that and she didn’t give that information. At least, not until she started training him. Thus, Finn Whelan was born to be a scrappy-ass motherfucker who didn’t give a shit.

The funny thing was that the girl he’d made his own little family with all those years ago, she became a wrestler too. She trained in a little gym in London and then made a name for herself by not only becoming a vicious bitch, but also known for jumping around the bedsheets with various competitors. Owners of prominent gyms, other prominent wrestlers she drug into the pits of hell and left them to die there…it didn’t quite matter. She turned around and said they abused her, but in the end…she got what she wanted. A little girl from one of them. She married a man who actually was the original proprietor of Woflslair, but he died long ago. Austin James Mercer’s dad, to be exact. They found each other again, and for once, it felt like home. They traveled companies together, they protected one another. They were the best of friends, and the worst thing that anyone could have come across. The Wolves of Gheimhridh, they called themselves. The Wolves of Winter.

Anyway, her mother found her eventually. She was a waif, and looked like fuckin’ Bellatrix Lestrange on a good day. Her name was just as irrelevant as the girl–no, woman, and so we won’t bring it up. But she stared at Finn one day and felt as if she’d seen a ghost. When pressed for answers, the woman’s mother said that she’d gotten pregnant from a man with the very same blue eyes as his. He was an Irish bastard, and got drunk before he’d gotten married and oops’d a child. She said it was the girl. They took it for face value. Siblings, they actually were. It was not just a choice, was it?

Finn tossed down his headphones, running a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. He really needed to sit down with the Bubbles-persona Kallie Reznik and get her to tone down her happy tone when she talked about kicking heads off, but that was for another day. The lights were dimming down, the trainees leaving. Alex waved a nonchalant bye as he headed home with Sonja and Aiden somehow made it into his office to ruffle his hair like an annoying little brother would (he was only saved by Dickie dragging him out of the room). He made up his mind slowly that it was probably better to just head home, and to start anew the next day, but as he stood, he rustled some papers and found the same manila envelope that he’d been given by the damn Japanese man only a few nights prior.

He stared at it, and as if it had eyes, it stared back at him. He grabbed for it, pulling out the paperwork and smoothing it on the desk. It stared up at him, blase in its appearance, but a complete killer of everything he knew in reality. The words “Paternity Test” in big, dark letters at the top of the paperwork, the name of his father, the name of the woman. The conclusion of the two page report that stated that the alleged father was not the biological father of the woman.

He supposed he was gullible as fuck to have believed some crazy woman on the streets. But in the end, it severed his ties to her completely as well. He wasn’t interested in being family with someone who would turn on their own family if it got them ahead of anyone else. He wasn’t interested in joining names with someone who treated him like he was an option rather than blood.

But it was the second report that really blew him away. His father’s name again, Roinn O’Hanlon, right at the top of it, along with another name. One he knew well. He’d scribbled it out, just in case the kid would come in there and rifle though his shit, but the Di of “Dimitri” was still legible in his head. Oh, the test stated the same thing. Roinn was not the biological father. But they shared a significant amount of the same genetic markers. The conclusive result at the end stated that while Roinn likely was not the biological father, it would be probable that they were part of the same family.

Which meant “Dimitri” and Finn were related.

What a fucked up world.

He thumbed through the report, shaking his head and shoving it into the envelope again without any solemnity. It was frustrating that he was constantly learning new things that he didn’t understand, didn’t need to understand, and didn’t want to know. Nevertheless, if there was any indicator that another family member was actually closer to him than he thought, he knew it would stick in his mind for days on end. He didn’t have a choice. Eventually, he would have to break the news, and he knew the kid wouldn’t take it well.

Hell, he wasn’t taking it well.

He scoffed and shook his head. It was a boggle for another day, and as the days edged closer to Into the Void in Athens, Greece, he would have to set it on the backburner like he did every personal situation. His career mattered. His life mattered to him. This stuff could wait. Kayla could wait.

He was thirty-three years old – thirty-four in just a few months. He wasn’t the same twenty-seven year old that came out of Seattle so many months ago with a chip on his shoulder and the desire to prove something. But he was that thirty-four year old who watched as the man he never expected to amount to anything in wrestling surpassed him. No, he’d never been particularly close with Dickie, not after all the years they’d known each other. But watching him become a champion of company after company, rising above and taking names in the span of three years, it left him wanting. He was still able to do this, right? He was still able to survive and fight the masses. Twice, companies closed and Dickie held onto inaugural championships, unable to have the belt wrested from him.

How was it that he’d gleaned all this information from Finn and capitalized where Finn couldn’t? Finn had his accolades, and he was proud of them, of course. But it wasn’t the same. Where it mattered, where he was on the precipice of winning the big ones…he’d fallen just a hair short. Every time. He knew he was better than that.

Next Level showed him he was better than that. Four shows and became the World Champion. Beat the Network’s best champion to retain. Lost it a term later.

He wasn’t ready then.

But he was certainly ready now.

He heard clicks of heels, and it was sounds he’d heard so many times before. Louboutins, size five and a half. He looked up without looking up, finding the diminutive form of his ex-wife standing in front of him again. She leaned on the doorframe, crossing her arms, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know that look.” Aaron said, tilting her head to the side and allowing her rainbow-colored locks to brush across her forehead.

Finn frowned and rose to his feet. He didn’t have time to be mocked and harangued by his ex-wife. But she held up her hand, waving a tissue in the air as if it were a flag for surrender. He paused, before reaching for his leather jacket and throwing it on over his shoulders. “You know, I know our divorce was vicious and terrible but…I still know who you are. I still know your facial expressions, I still know how you act. If you need an ear, I’ve got all the time in the world.

No,” he replied, pretty straight forward.

Finn,” Aaron chided and shook her head. “We don’t have to play like we hate each other–

No, I’m pretty sure it’s not playtime. You’re not a part of my life.” He reached for his keys on his desk and hit the light.

You’re really good about pushing everyone who tries to give you an inch away. That’s what happened with us. That’s what happened with you and El–

No. What happened with me and Elena is that I found out, too late, that she never gave a fuck about anyone but herself, and you knew that. I didn’t listen to you. You can hold that over me, or whatever.” Finn bypassed her, reaching around and shutting the door to his office. “Ya know, I’m gettin’ real sick of women just appearing at my doorstep and telling me how I should act, or what I should do. I’m not in the mood for fuckin’ small talk, and I don’t have time to be distracted from my goals.

Ooh, Kayla is just like me then.” She chuckled when Finn made an exasperated sound and started walking for the main floor, heading towards the main doors to leave.

Well no, she doesn’t have a vagina full of teeth.

Ugh, Finn,” Aaron replied, throwing her head back in her own brand of exasperation and shaking her head. She followed him with determined footsteps and caught up with him eventually. Her short legs didn’t exactly give her a lot of ground against his long ones. “I’m gonna assume that Kayla isn’t currently speaking to you right now since you’re in a mood–

My mood doesn’t really depend on Kayla, Aaron.

Shouldn’t it? I mean, since she’s your girl–

Stop. Right there. Stop.” Finn turned on his combat boot heel and shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning down to look Aaron directly in the eyes. “Kayla lives in my apartment, yes. She’s constantly trying to get in my pants, yes. She interferes in my matches, yes. We’re not dating. For the last time, I’m not having this conversation with you. Gotta focus on my match, you know, retaining a championship.

Aaron made a hand motion and rolled her eyes, talking to herself as she followed him out of the gym entirely. Later at night, traffic wasn’t as much of a big deal. But still, it was easier to take the metro than it was to drive in New York City. She clanked after him in her heels, staying close to him as much as she could. Finn shoved his hands in his pockets and descended the staircase into the depths of the underground. “Sin City, right? I saw that match with Goth and uh…Supreme Machine…wasn’t your best.

You haven’t been in a ring in nearly six years. Fuck off.

No.” It was like their old fights, so long ago. The ones that they had just to joke around. “I’d expect that to be because you’ve got some rust in those ol’ bones. You’ve been doing yoga, right? Gotta stay limber if you’re going to move as fast as you used to.


Shut up, just listen. Look. I watched your last match too. You’re not the same person you used to be. There’s not the same fire…part of you is out of the whole…wanting to be in the wrestling business still.” She stated, following him to a platform and crossing her arms as they waited for the train. “It’s obvious. You’re not doing this because you want to. You’re doing this because you feel like you have to, Finn.

I don’t have to

You do though. You and I both know that it’s not just about doing the motions but also wanting it too. You have to dig deep down and figure out where the Finn is who would kick ass and leave no mercy. You’re hung up somewhere. You deserve to be at the top of the totem pole, but you haven’t done well enough to get there. Maybe…just maybe, you should try and figure out who you are instead of who you’re expected to be, right? This Roulette Championship, yeah…it fits your candor right now, but I know it’s not enough for you. You want to be better than this. You want to be better than everyone.

Finn grit his teeth. Aaron was right. He did. Of all the things in the world, that was the most desired. He’d done it in OATH. He’d done it in Next Level, he’d done it in WWH. Two places established, one he established the place of. But he wanted it one more shot. The Roulette Championship? It was his, but it wasn’t where he ended.

He wanted more.

He would always want more.


Stepping out of the movie theatre, the title still on his shoulder, the sun gleamed off of it as Finn pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and shoves them on his face. His lip ring glints in the light, his nose ring too. Of all the people in the world, Finn Whelan probably doesn’t give a frick what you think of him. He’s been called the gamut of names, just as much as anyone else that might look like him, but that doesn’t stop him from doing what he’s best at. After all, he spent a year in a deathmatch promotion completely annihilating the rest of the competition. At least, until the end, where he could use the distraction of everyone else as his fall from grace.


The Seattle Saint smirks slightly as he continues on. It clear now that he’s in Athens already. The Parthenon is visible in the background upon the acropolis, and tourists are around him just as much as he is one of them. He bypasses a few people on the street, avoiding photos, avoiding others. Perhaps people don’t necessarily know him. Or maybe they just simply don’t recognize him with his sunglasses on. No matter. He’s a human being, not just an entertainers.

Max. You’re always second, but don’t think that I’m leaving you behind every single time. You know, I find it funny…I had a conversation the other day with someone I genuinely abhor, but she made a really good point. That being, you know…you actually have to want something in order to continue to succeed. For me, I’m always wanting more for myself. Wanting to succeed, wanting to be better than the last match, wanting to push myself to my limits every time I get into that ring. I wonder, to be honest…what the fuck does Max want?

He inclines his head forward as if he’s asking the specific question. But of course, he doesn’t receive an answer. He sidesteps another person, not quite Bittersweet Symphony, but not gently either. They shout at him in Greek and he rolls his eyes. It would have been likely to see him flip off that person if they were in America, but when you’re in other countries, it’s usually better to be polite, right?

I’m not even sure. Look, I know you came back for Blast From the Past. Almost a year in between your showing. You held the GRIME World Nightmare Championship for a solid eight months – impressive in this day and age, but then you shrugged your shoulders, let it slide off of you, and made your first steps into the Blast From the Past Tournament in 2021. But did you really? You were eliminated in the first round of the 2021 version, teaming up with Amy…whoever. I don’t see the name anymore, so I really can’t be assed to figure it out. But lo and behold, I realized that you got kicked out of the tournament by Myra…this year’s partner, and Mac Bane.

I don’t really have a solid expectation for the Women’s Division…but I know that at the end of the day, your performance against Mac, the man who is currently the Heavyweight Champion…both times, you failed miserably. Mac and Myra defeated you and Amy and you disappeared from Sin City for nearly a year until…you arrived in the Blast From the Past tournament for this year. I get the point of the tournament…it’s to bring people in that might otherwise be predisposed elsewhere for a fun time. Unfortunately, my partner this year decided to do fuckall, so I was unable to advance…but had I been able to, I always wonder what might have happened.

Nevertheless, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. About how you and Myra moved forward, all the way up to Mac Bane and his partner…and got stopped. But this year – your first opponents being Miles Kasey and Audrey Russow. Don’t get me wrong, Miles is in Wolfslair but we’re of two different cloths. Not that you would even realize who you’re speaking with, since you focused so readily on Bill the whole first promo you did. At first, I felt jipped, but I figured you’d come in with some shit promo against me secondly…but that’s the thing, I don’t really need to bounce off of yours to make my own. That’s the difference here.

You succeeded, You went ahead, and you didn’t make it to the end, but you did something. Then you defeated Agostino and Miles for a shot at this championship.

Finn pats the championship in a very Connor McGregor motion, and then snorts and shakes his head.

Mate, tell me what you really want. Is it this” He points at the championship. “Is it really this? You’ve held it once, congrats…and you fuckin’ love this shit, right? Or was it without the fuckin’, I don’t remember exactly…either way, you fought them and you won the opportunity to do this. You made some allusion to what you had in GRIME, but I’m looking at some of the commentary that you had and you…defeated Lord Raab…and Samuel MacPhearson. You see, I’ve dealt with some of the Raabs. Konrad, to be specific. Wanted my championship. I said no. I retained. You wanted the championship then, but…do you really want this now?

Do you really want to fight for this day in and day out? Is this the championship you want? Is the status the thing you want? Do you really want to be champion again or is this just another Tuesday for you?

Finn stops outside a small park, with a vineyard and he leans against it. It’s a tad bit shady, and people pass him by again, ignoring him for the most part. Or, since they see the camera, running past him quickly.

I don’t think you want this, Max. I really don’t. I think you’re happy to have earned an opportunity, but I don’t think you have that fire inside of you that pushes you to drive yourself to win. Certainly, I don’t see it in your arguments. A blase five minute promotional video where you give some commentary about Athens and how much you like the division without any passion behind your words…really pushing yourself for some grandeur.

I should know. I didn’t push myself the first few weeks, and yet here I am, still with the championship in my possession and here I am defending it. I’ll let you in on a secret here…I don’t want this either.

He lifts the championship from his shoulders and then looks down at it, taking in its shiny, cleanliness. For all of this “I don’t want it” talk he says, Finn certainly has taken care of the championship since he’s gotten it.

Don’t get me wrong, and don’t quote me wrong either. I have the championship. I earned it. I like the whole…Roulette situation. The thrill of not knowing exactly what I’m walking into…yeah, I get it. It’s a ride, and I appreciate every second of being a champion. But this isn’t my final stop. This isn’t the exit I jumped off the highway for. I want to improve. I want to do better. To me…you sound like you’ve resigned yourself to this championship simply because it seems like it’s relatively in your grasp. Me? I don’t like being restricted. I don’t like being relegated to a championship simply because of I’ve made mistakes in the first few matches I’ve had. This is not where I end.

He looks back up at the camera, peering directly ahead.

But this is where I begin. You see, the more I come to terms with this, I do realize that I can make something of myself and this championship. A simple search shows me that this championship has changed hands fifty-five times. Sometimes, it’s the same person holding onto it over and over again. You, Max…you haven’t held this championship since 2013. For two months. Two. The way you talk, it’s like you held onto it for far longer, like it’s part of your genetic makeup. Oh yeah, I’ve had it before. There’s been forty-three different people between you and me. Out of the three of us in this match, we actually have the privilege of having a prior champion to have beaten. That gives us a little bit of a higher power with it, but…I don’t intend on just sitting on my ass with it.

He shakes his head once more, slowly, from side to side.

No. This is how I make my name. By defeating every person that comes against me for this championship, my reign lasts longer than the longest one on that list…which looks like Thatcher Rex, and was longer than a year. If I have to do that again, and if I have to keep this in my hands? So be it. I don’t mind. Why?

Because unlike a lot of you, it’s not just about winning a match. It’s about being your best every fucking time.. There’s always going to be people like Bill Barnhart that are going to be the first to tell you lies and slander just to get under your skin, but I think it’s evident that his brand of bullshit fits the bill. In fact, it’s pretty easy to refute once you get down to it. Unless you want to argue the same bullshit…

He trails off. Clearly, the accusation that Bill Barnhart went to, plus the whole…you know, telling him he wasn’t as good as someone that clearly has a lingering brain contusion bothers him, but nevertheless.

But let’s be clear…you didn’t say shit about me because you don’t know what to say. I’m an unknown to you, right, Max? You have nothing to say because you don’t know me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve reiterated a couple points because I don’t know you either. But that’s going to change. I’ve studied tape. I’ve looked at all of this. That’s what you do when you want to stay in control. There’s no doubt about it. You’re good.

A pause. A smirk rises on his face.

But I’m better.

Barnhart found that out when he went toe to toe with me in Corfu. I can one hundred percent say I did not put in my best effort in the last defense, but you can bet your happy, calm ass that I am this defense. I’m coming for blood, and no matter what that roulette wheel has in store for all of us, I will not stop until I’ve made it perfectly clear that Finn Whelan isn’t going anywhere, much to the chagrin of my Wolfslair pals. I faded out once, I will not do so again. I will make it clear that one day, whether it’s sooner or later, I will gain the opportunity to face whomever holds the Heavyweight Championship., and I will succeed. You can’t get rid of me. I’m a bit like a disease…I just keep coming back for more. Hah, hence The Virulence.

So in Athens, you two…let’s make sure we do one thing well – let’s ensure that our match is the one talked about at the end of the day. I’ll be walking out of it champion, but at the very least…you guys will have made the headlines. That’s better than nothing, right?

Offline Max Burke

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Re: Roulette Championship: Finn Whelan (c) v Max Burke v Bill Barthart
« Reply #6 on: May 13, 2022, 10:47:44 PM »
Moustakas Toys
Athens, Greece
Early Wednesday afternoon

Max: Welcome back to the vlog! It’s another beautiful day on the Greece Lightning tour. This afternoon, I’m on my way for an Into The Void 11 meet and greet at Moustakas Toys. A lot have pointed out my change of heart recently. You’re not wrong. You’re not quite right either. Days like today are a big reason why I’m not the same ol’ cantankerous Max that you’ve grown to know and love to hate. What can I say? You all see it. Libby has her uncle Max wrapped around her finger. Hi Libby. Miss you. Yes, it’s been years since I’ve shown an appreciation for our Sin City Wrestling fans. Libby’s made me realise that I don’t want to be an asshole 24/7.

Well it doesn’t look like I’m going to even make it to the store. That’s an impressive line. I know I’m not the only one booked for this thing, but I’m pretty sure they are here for me. Right? I’m not early either. There’s plenty of time to toy hunt.

Young fan: Hi Max!

Max: Hey little man! Nice to meet you. What’s your name?

Young fan: Nikos.

The excitement in his eyes is infectious. You can tell Nikos is stoked to see us. This is what I’m talking about. How can you not want this reaction? It’s nice to not have to look over your shoulder all of the time. What can I say I was a real prick back in the day.

Max: Hello Nikos. I just want to tell you how much I’ve fallen in love with Athens. I’m just a little jealous that you get to live here. Are you excited for the show?

Nikos: Yes! My whole family is going. It’s my first time going to live wrestling.

Max: Fun! You are going to have such a great time. Love your shirt by the way. Did you design it yourself?

Nikos: My sisters and I made it.

It’s impressive I’ve got to admit. This thing is jam packed with screen prints of the wrestlers’ logos. They did a fantastic job.

Max: Let’s add your first autograph by mine. How’s that sound, Nikos?

Nikos: Thank you Max!

Max: You’re welcome buddy. I’ve got to run, and get ready for the meet and greet. I’ll see you inside ok? And I’ll be looking for you and the family on Sunday night. You never forget your first live show. You are going to have a blast.

A quick fist bump and a selfie, and I’m on my way inside Moustakas Toys..

Max: I’m about to be Charlie entering the Wonka Factory. I love exploring toy stores around the world. Embrace your childhood, there’s not a thing wrong with that at all. Nikos, and that excitement is a huge reason as to why I’ve decided to finally enjoy myself, and not be a miserable prick. I’m too old for this nonsense anymore. I’m smelling the roses right now, and enjoying every minute of it.

Temple of Hephaestus
Athens, Greece
Sunset on Friday evening

Yep, this is what I love to do. What a lot of us on this tour love to do. I’m not going to just pingpong from my room to the hotel gym when we are in Greece. Sorry not happening. This evening I’m on my way to the Temple of Hephaestus on top of Agoraios Kolonos hill. The temple was built in honor of the God of Fire and Athena.

Max: Oh Finn, you really are a walking stereotype. For the resume that you have you really have no need to be so hostile. I could almost see the steam coming out of your ears. You wanted to question my passion? Why am I doing this? What’s my motivation? You question my fire? I’ll show you that fire that you’re both looking from me. Just like the God of Fire, here at the Temple of Hephaestus I am planning to introduce you to my blacksmith hammers. I’ve got years swinging ‘em, and they’re very effective. This Sunday night, I’m going to show both of you just exactly what I bring to the table. I’m going to show each of you just how seriously I still take this. I’m going to show you that I still pack a hell of a punch.

The sun is almost set, and the shadows are cast from the pillars of the temple. You’re a moron if you’re not out here enjoying what every destination on this tour has to offer. I didn’t think Athens could top our other spots that we’ve visited so far. Oh how wrong I was. I’m too much of a nerd to ignore the lore of Athens. It engulfs you. 

Max: Listen to me carefully kid. Just because I haven’t been one to chase titles, individuals such as yourself always question my abilities. Did I only hold the Roulette Championship once for a couple months? Yep. Congratulations you’ve been on our website. Good for you.  Each one of us has different reasons for competing. Championship glory is fun to chase. Is it my motivation? No, it is not. Did I take an opportunity when it was presented? You’re damn straight I did. Did I capitalise on it? Of course I did. You two can run down my level of competition, or my results when I squared off against Mac and Austin all you want. Fair play. The fact of the matter is this, and a fact you are oh so conveniently leaving out is the fact that Miles, Todd, Jaycee... they were all looking up at me at the end of the night throughout the Blast From The Past. Where were you? Right. Watching the monitors in the back while Myra and I showed our desire, and motivation. We were the ones standing in the ring for the finals this year. Rah rah Finn.
Enthusiastic enough for you?

Max: Have I returned with a different view of the world? No shit. A worldwide pandemic, and physical therapy will do that to a fella. I’ve learned over the years that being all wound up, and angry all the time is bad for a person’s health. That shit can give you an ulcer. Hell, I’m an uncle now. That little lady did make my heart grow like the Grinch when she showed up. So yeah, I’m not full of piss and vinegar like I used to be. Does that make me less of a threat? You’d be foolish to assume that like you two obviously have. The two of you are in for an unfortunate turn of events come Sunday night. If you honestly don’t believe that I can tap into that dark side anymore, you are sadly mistaken. The 3 of us have all been around the block. At Into The Void 11, it’s quite obvious that you 2 have your unfinished business. Maybe number 14 will be the charm for you two? Or, what is more likely to happen as I’ve always been a fan of seizing the moment is that while you two are laser focused on each other, I’ll do what I’ve done over and over again. Seize the moment, and give the canvas a permanent imprint of your skull with a Nail In The Coffin. Ask Todd. Ask Miles. Ask Jaycee. You’re not getting up. Simple as that. You will be looking up at the lights at the end of the night. You will see the Roulette Championship glistening under those lights. You will be looking up at your new Roulette Champion, Max Burke. I don’t care if it’s Bill laying at my feet, or you Finn. That is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is you will not be walking out with that title over your shoulder come Sunday. I will. Embrace it.