PARADIGM SHIFT XV // MANIC
FEAR HITS LIKE A DRUG IN THE VEIN, HARD TO STOP LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN. LOOK AROUND, BUT THERE’S NOBODY TO BLAME. OH, WHAT A SHAME.
WAGE WAR
••••••
The cheers of the crowd never got old, especially when you’d won the big one. As he pushed the curtain upwards and let it fall behind him, a grin slid upon his face. Two championships. Double champion. The words that people uttered to him the entire time about being selfish, about not trying to ascertain glory by only having one championship…
Well. Fuck what they said, right?
Finn Whelan wasn’t selfish, by any means; but he certainly was competitive. Things like championships only became a factor when they became part of a game. The game this time? Proving himself. Not only to everyone else who sat there and berated him for being who he was, for willing to work with a tag partner who didn’t like nor want him around, for being infinitely observant, and for having a brain when so many people in this business didn’t. For having to listen to bitches on the other side of the aisle who would never amount to what they were, or what he was.
Go cry about it.
There was a part inside of him that had he had long since buried that crept up every once and a while when there was a celebration to be had. A part of him that wanted to seek out Kayla, find her wherever she was in the back and…well, there were no words that he could use to continue that thought. It was part that wouldn’t see the light of day, so he swallowed his feeling and pushed back into the arena. A few of the production staff clapped him on the back, and eventually, he knew he’d see either Christian or Mark before he left for the night. They would no doubt congratulate him on a second win of the championship, but somehow, he felt that might be a hollow victory.
A cleared throat behind him as he headed down the long hallway to the locker rooms made him stop, close his eyes, and then turn his head, looking behind him with an annoyed expression. He knew the voice; in fact, he knew it so well, he was actually surprised that he’d dare to show his face tonight. Finn exhaled, and moved his whole body in the direction of the sound. Perched upon a production box, an eyebrow raised, was Kei Hideshima. How he got backstage?
He had his ways.
He raised his hands and started clapping, slowly. Finn hiked the World Championship on his shoulder and held onto the Mixed title with his other hand, staring the Japanese man down with contempt across the entirety of his face.
“Kyodai,” he smiled through his words, though Finn knew the tone and the phrase far too well. Little brother, he called him. He wanted something, that was for certain. “Congratulations on the championship win. We all knew you could do it.”
See, Finn had gotten into a habit of not opening his mouth unless it was required. Too many times, he’d gotten himself in shit for mouthing off, and tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. He was in too much of a good mood to let it be sullied by a man who continually couldn’t take no as an answer. He tilted his head and nodded, refusing to say thank you. It wouldn’t serve a purpose except for allow pride go to Kei’s head.
Nevertheless, Kei continued on, stepping down off of the box and standing face-to-face with Finn, just mere feet away. “A large shame it was only because of business.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed.
“You know, some money may have changed hands in a trade. A quick count for the ending, you know…keeping down a monster wrestler like Goth…”
Finn knew what this was. This was Kei trying to manipulate the situation into something that it wasn’t – that he’d paid off the referee to count him as the winner, that he had a hand in Sin City business. But he didn’t, and Finn wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. He exhaled slowly out of his mouth, trying to keep his temper in check. It would do nothing for him if he snapped.
“That is how things go in this business. The best win because they use their resources prominently. You do not have to thank me, Callien…I just hope you can look past your shortcomings and pride to realize that as a team once more, we could take this world by storm. Think about how strong you could be. You could have whatever you wanted.”
Finn’s eyebrow raised and he tilted his head to the side. “Whatever I want?” He repeated, slowly. Smoothly. Deadly.
“Whatever–”
“Funny, because I stand in front of you with two championships that I earned on my own. I don’t buy your claim that you had anything to do with this, because guess what – you and I both know that you wouldn’t have spent a dime on me if it meant that I could rebuff you. Which, let me remind you, is over and over and over again.”
“Now, Finn–”
“How many times do I have to say no? How many times is it going to be before you realize that even though you can wheedle my brother out of his freewill doesn’t mean that you will ever have that chance to do it again. I have the Mixed Tag Team Championships because Kayla and I worked our asses off for them. This one? I have because I was the better man tonight, and you can’t tell me otherwise. I don’t need manipulation and bullshit tactics to win everything I want. I’ve already made every fucking step that I’ve needed to be successful and they do not include you.”
Kei said nothing, but a slight smile raised at the corners of his lips. He let the American Irishman snap off on him, his speech flowing to an Irish brogue as he got more agitated. The calm facade that he kept on most occasions snapped off. It probably wasn’t good that Kei could still do that, but nevertheless, it happened.
“Ever since I dropped your ass, I have done nothing but flourish. With you, I kept failing miserably; you were an atomic bomb on my career, my standing, and my wellbeing. I don’t need you, Kei. Clearly, you still need me but the fucking option isn’t there. For the last fucking time, stop showing up, stop trying to get me to work with you, and for fuck’s sake, stop acting like a jilted lover who needs me more than I will ever need you.”
He turned then, walking away from him with solidified steps. He didn’t bother looking behind him, only stared directly ahead of him, watching where he was walking with grit teeth and anger in his features. He was tired of this. Tired of people like him and Aaron who constantly pushed themselves into his space, refusing to back off when asked. Tired of being persuaded to do something that he didn’t want to. Dickie had very little ability to say no to anyone, but not him. He was done with this shit.
“You will regret this, Callien.”
Finn didn’t bother to respond.
••••••
Kei didn’t show up for the next couple of weeks, and finally, Finn felt he’d taken control of the situation and finally got through to his brain. The Seattle Saint went through the motions at Wolfslair, being celebrated for returning with the championship in his hands, congratulated even by Alex Jones, who continued to despise his presence on most days, but couldn’t deny that the gold looked good for the gym. And that it did. Dual championships, returning wrestlers to the scene, wins across the board, and even Aiden with his tie with someone like Ben Jordan, the team was doing wonderful things.
It was a quiet day for the most part. He sat in his office, like he did on most occasions that we found him. Finn wasn’t an extrovert, and he preferred to be behind the scenes, reviewing people’s promotional videos and trying to figure out how to help them bring out their own style while simultaneously hitting the weaknesses of their opponent hard. It was easy to do when once he knew who everyone was and how they approached things. Now, most of them simply wanted a review rather than a full class.
He looked up every so often, glancing out the window of his office onto the floor. From his spot, he could see Austin training with Alicia in the ring, Alex on the apron barking orders at both of them. Johanna and Kallie were seated at one of the open areas with Aaron, completing some yoga positions. Kayla was there with them, and she was rolling her eyes entirely at all of the options – that she was even doing yoga, and that she was listening to, of all people, Aaron. He could see her expression quite clearly, and he knew it well.
Aiden was standing far off at the weights, probably forlornly missing his best friend still. Finn still needed to solve that.
All and all, it was quiet. It was peaceful. It was a regular day.
Until it wasn’t.
Chaos ensued quicker than anyone could have ever expected. Weapons, assault rifles, held tightly to chests as they descended, men wearing masks appeared out of nooks and crannies that no one had even been aware of. Also the front door, where someone had grabbed Sonja and was dragging her with them, though she valiantly was stabbing them in the chest with her elbow.
Kei followed them in, and behind him trudged a very hesitant and very quiet Dickie Watson, who did not look at all comfortable with any of this.
He stood at the entryway, his arms crossed as he surveyed all of the people within the building. He noted Aiden, who was staring at Dickie like a long lost puppy dog returned home, though that expression was quickly covered with fear as one of the lackey’s Kei had pointed one of the rifles at him. Kallie scrambled up behind Johanna and Kayla, the latter of which had her eyes narrowed as she stared at the Japanese man with an intense amount of venom within her features. Aaron rose to her feet, and then snapped at the man who had the audacity to point a gun at her in Japanese.
Alex, Austin and Alicia were all struck dumb by the now three men who surrounded the ring with their weapons. At least until Alex realized Sonja was in the hands of someone else, and he moved towards them – only to be stopped with a muzzle pointed directly in his face.
Kei looked around at the equipment, raised an eyebrow, and then commented. “Kono jimu ga hoshī.” He demanded, stating that he wanted the gym. He looked at Dickie, who seemed to pale in front of his eyes. “Get rid of–”
A bullet went whizzing past his head before he could issue the statement. He paused, and then he turned his head, looking at the man across from him, a gun with a silencer raised, directly pointed in his direction. Kei smirked slightly, although he could have also been praising Finn for not killing him.
“That’s unfortunate,” Finn snapped, staring down the end of the gun in his hands. “I don’t think it’s for sale.”
“Finnegan,” Kei smiled, recovering from the fact that he was shot at, raised his hands from his crossed arms and bowed slightly. “It is lovely to see you again.”
“The sentiment isn’t returned.” Finn stated, and though Kei was raising his hands in surrender, he didn’t bother lowering the weapon. Kayla’s eyes were widened as she stared up at him, as if she were seeing someone that she didn’t even recognize. “You have two minutes before the wall behind you is spattered in your brain matter.”
Kei chuckled, “But it is so beneath you now, is it not? Taking someone’s life? It was so easy to do, especially when asked. And what was it you received in return? Confidence, training, strength, things that you always lacked in yourself. For the mere contract to be completed as my second.”
Finn’s lip twitched. This was what he meant, he thought, when he said I’d regret it. In front of all of his friends, his confidants, his teammates, Kei was outing him for what he had been, for what he’d left behind so many years ago. Six years, he hadn’t been a part of Kei’s schemes, and now here he was.
Aiden’s eyes fell upon Kei, and he tilted his head as if he recognized him. He glanced at Finn. “Oi, mate…” He started, but was hit in the stomach with the butt of the rifle that the man next to him held. “Ah, fuck…”
“That was a long time ago, Kei. A long time ago since you’ve had a right hand, and now you’re using Dickie for that, which has been harder for you because he’s softer than I am. You, of all people in this room, know what I’m capable of, and what I will do to protect the people I care about.”
“The people you care about?” Kei questioned, looking at everyone. “You mean to tell me you care about Alex Jones, the man who single-handedly almost ruined your relationship with your sister? Or Alicia Lukas, who you’ve called McWafflecunt since the dawn of time? Or shall I bring up your dear ex-wife, Aaron, who brought you to me in the first place when you couldn’t manage to find yourself. Oh but of course, then there is Kayla–”
“Yes,” Finn cut him off, and his voice appeared to sound even more deadly the second he mentioned Kayla. “The people I care about.” He lowered the gun and walked down the steps, keeping his eyes focused on Kei until he stood in front of him, face to face, eye to eye. “It won’t take me but a second to break your neck.”
“You are a changed man now, are you not?”
“Old habits die hard.” Kei smirked. Finn tilted his head, glancing at Dickie briefly before looking back at the Japanese crime boss. “Or, shall we play the other game? Instead of physical intimidation, we’ll go with verbal manipulation. Shall I let Hideyaki-sama know you’re planning to overthrow him?”
Kei’s smile dropped.
“It’s not like I don’t have a direct line to the fucker whenever I want. Speed dial, nine.”
“You would not.”
“I would, if it meant keeping everyone in this room alive and happy. You need me, but I don’t need you, Kei and the more you do this shit means the less I’m going to continue putting up with it. Now, everyone in here has heard your plan, including all of your little lackeys, so if the info goes to the head of the family, then your ass is grass, right? And you have no fucking clue who it’s going to be, so let’s do this. We’ll forget this ever happened, and you’ll go on your merry-fucking-way, and you’ll leave me, and everyone in Wolfslair, out of your bullshit.”
Kei did not look pleased with this, and he glanced around at the people around him.
“Or I blow your brains out and take over your position. Cuz that’s how it goes, right? I’ve only been out of the Yakuza for six years, but I’m pretty sure I remember how to take over from my immediate superior.” Finn narrowed his eyes.
Kei exhaled through his nose, and then raised a hand, signaling to his staff to retreat. He walked backwards, keeping his eyes on Finn, and headed behind Dickie, who began to follow. Finn watched them both, and when the danger was all gone, he exhaled slowly, raising his chin to the ceiling and looking upwards.
“MATE WHAT THE FUCK?!” Aiden screamed, charging up to him.
Finn raised a hand, shaking his head, and then turned back to look at Alex, who was helping Sonja to her feet. The two stared at each other, and then Finn nodded.
“I’ll pack my shit.” He replied, not even waiting for Alex to say anything. His eyes floated, as he walked back to his office, and he found Kayla.
She’d come to him, weeks ago now, stating that she knew there was something up, that he was involved in something. Kei had freaked her out, and now with all of it revealed, he wondered if she’d look at him any differently. She’d yelled at him that she could help him, that she was there for him, and now? She’d also snapped that she cared about him, but that was something he couldn’t have. Not with this shit. The further away from all of this she was, the better it would be.
They were just tag partners, after all.
••••••
I know people were hoping that I wouldn’t show my face, so you could get your rocks off on X or Twitter or whatever the fuck Elon Musk wants to call it. It’s easy to be critical when you’re not in the business, and yeah, I’ve had a rough start on this whole fuckin’ being the face or whatever…
Or so everyone would like me to state and believe.
I’m of a different opinion. Traditional shit like stepping out and having this big ass fucking celebration of winning a championship is definitely back in the early two-thousands, and I’m really not about that life. A lot of people like putting a lot of stock into winning the championship, and maybe that’s why it’s hot potato’d for the past few years relatively quickly. I’m not a celebratory person. I did my job.
I fulfilled my obligation.
I’m not going to say that I didn’t fulfill it well, because I won the World Heavyweight Championship against someone who was salivating at the bit for it almost as if he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. Screaming about everyone under the sun but underestimating me because he thought he was a fuckin’ shoo-in for the championship. That was a fallacy and it cost him in the end. At My Bloody Valentine V, I became a two-time World Heavyweight Champion when everyone in the world was telling me that I wasn’t going to be.
Fuck you and your opinions, to be perfectly honest.
See, this is what I’ve always hated about social media, and maybe let me point this out to people like Mikah and Julianna DiMaria. It’s easy to run your shit-slobbering mouth when you stand on the other side of the aisle, screaming at the heavens about your rotten place in the world when you don’t have to own up to it. When there is no consequence. Mikah is retired, but has not one ability to drop her attachment to sucking off leadership because she thinks it’ll garner her points on an invisible stick of favorability. Julianna jumped on a horse that she doesn’t know how to ride because she thinks she’ll get points and it’ll make her look good as the Bombshells Champion.
All it makes you look like is pathetic little bitches with nothing to do with your time except bitch and complain on social media like a female boomer complaining about gender-neutral pronouns.
In any other company, spats on social media could be solved by a scheduled match. One where the people doing the bitching face the person they’re bitching about. I could have that match. I’m happy to face whomever is put in front of me because that’s how I was trained, and that’s how I’ve worked for the past ten years of my career. This is the only company on this side of the world that has separated genders, and let me tell you right now, that is the only reason that they can continue to run their mouth and not get their words knocked the fuck out of them.
Because I’m a gentleman…and it’s not allowed.
Here. Find me outside SCW, and we’ll see about that. While it’s in SCW, Kayla can knock every word back down their throats if she so chooses.
No, I’m not going to be that champion that shows up to everything and lords my abilities over everyone else. I’m going to work. Work means actually being in the ring, doing the job that I’m paid for, not just showing up and looking pretty.
And before you start mouthing off, Mikah, Kay and I have already surpassed you and your hubby on days as champions, and it’s just going to continue on even after this week. Wolves-dash-one. Or three, however you want to look at it.
Kayla and I both have singles gold as part of our quest to succeed. As a dual champion, I represent both the Mixed Tag Team division and the Men’s division as their top competitor. I’m undefeated this year, I’m pushing for greatness, and while I have two separate divisions that I work in, I find it quite easy to focus on where I need to be in the moment, in that particular time frame. I’m not putting a championship ahead of another championship, but when I’m booked as a Mixed Tag Team Champion, that is where my focus is. That’s where it needs to be, and that’s where it’s lying when we take on this postponed match.
Ariana Angelos and Helluva Bottom Carter.
Team Go.
I’ve been here before with Carter. There and Back Again, isn’t that what you said last time? That my presence within the company was similar to a hobbit’s journey? You’re not the first to point it out, the lack of consistency, the lack of continuation. It seems to be the only thing that ultimately brings me out of my hidey hole, but you know what? That’s the only thing that anyone ever says about me that’s true. It’s easy to come up with shit, throw things in a corner, act like a bitch. Be a cunt. Whatever floats your boat, you do you, but it’s literally the low hanging fruit that everyone picks, thinks is sweet, but is really just rotten inside.
We met back in January. Second round for the World Heavyweight Championship that J2H vacated, and the story ends in that I won. It was a sad night for you, right? Because you had a rope break and still, I was declared the winner. Lucky me, I guess. It’s not my fault when people don’t recognize shit, but you know what, some of us are wishful and hopeful in our lives when maybe we shouldn’t have been. Sorry that your foot wasn’t recognized, kind of like how you are rarely recognized for greatness.
Then, you said we had similar outlooks, similar styles. I disagree. I have a very different outlook than you. You are a wishful thinker, someone who puts optimism ahead of their goals. You’re one of those people that probably talk about manifesting your greatness, and that’s what will earn you the greatest things in life. I’m sure you’re happy with Miles. That, I’m certain of. But you couldn’t manifest yourself to greatness when it came against me…and why?
Why is that?
You’re good, Carter, but your eyes are constantly elsewhere when they should be focused on the match in front of them. You carried on with Rodrigo about how Ben Jordan said you would be a future World Champion, but I disagree. You could be. Just like Miles could be. But not until you get your head correctly on your shoulders and focus on your shit. I have a multitude of shit going on in my life, but when I’m in that ring, I am solely focused on that ring, the people in it and the outcome that I want.
And I strive to make it happen.
I’ve been here before. I’ve fought these same roads over and over again seeking for the thing that made me smarter, or wiser, or just simply better than the people around me. I’m not every one of those things at any time, but my outlook has changed over the years. I tried to sit there and say to people that they were the best, that we were going to have one of the greatest knock-down, drag-outs of the century and wish them well. But I don’t anymore…and why is that?
Because I’ve learned that if I give an inch, motherfuckers like you will come in and take a mile.
Maybe I’m jaded, or simply vindictive, but I’m not a kind soul anymore. I fight with every bitter bone in my body to be the best because I finally have realized that the only person that is responsible for making things happen in my life is me. It’s not my friends, it’s not my pals, it’s me doing my utmost every time I step into that ring. When it comes to tag teaming, Kayla and I have always remained the same on this conversation: it’s a professional relationship where we put ourselves in the thick and thin of it because we only rely on the other to do our job. There are no feelings involved, we are not friends. There is no I have your back, you have mine. It’s goals and the creation and subsequent continuation of that goal.
When we faced Limitless for the championships the first time, we held strong to that fact. Feelings were wiped from the mat and we won. The second time, they expected to come back with this hero story that they would get their shit together and they would win. Nope, wrong. When we faced Miles Kasey and Alexandra Callaway, they also had this feeling within their bones that they would back each other up with their feelings.
Ben Jordan and Samantha Marlowe were the closest to winning these championships from us, but…even so, they didn’t.
Because of feelings.
Ben wanted so much to win those for Sam, and it just didn’t happen.
Kayla and I don’t do feelings. We don’t do friendships. We do this for us, for longevity, for power and strength. To prove our worth in this business, and make sure everyone is able to take credence. There is no wishy-washy, lovey-dovey bullshit behind our motives. It’s simply do our job and move on.
Now, I don’t know what possessed you to work with Ariana, but I’ll put that on the backburner because I know what the two of you are capable of. You’ve been friends, partners, for a long time. And that’s good for you, I guess. To know and echo one another in the ring. And you want gold so badly together that you’re just going to fight like hell for it. You drew against Ben and Sam, and so now, you’re given an opportunity to face the best in this company. We all want greatness, Carter. It’s all about how much you actually want it.
Kayla has her sights set on dual championship territory, and she’s going to do everything in her power to get there. Ariana is a hard-worker, always pushes herself to do well, but when it comes down to it…she’s not a match for Kayla. Kayla is out for blood, not just gold. If Kayla wins at the next supercard, she will be a grand slam champion in this company, and everyone is going to have to recognize her for her greatness. And I can tell you tonight, that she’s not about to let Ariana get one up on her at all.
And me?
Why the fuck would I be any different? After all, I am the World Heavyweight Champion, and I am the Mixed Tag Team Champion that has knocked down every challenger. I’ve stood down the ring looking at people who didn’t think I had it in me to do what I’ve done, and I’ve taken their pride and their glory right out from under them. And that includes you, Carter. I moved on when you didn’t, and maybe that win was a bit tainted, but nevertheless I’m the one standing here…and you’re fighting again for recognition. Over and over…oh look, there and back again.
I’m not going to wish you luck, I’m not going to shake your hand. I’m going to keep telling you to listen and to learn. We are competitors, we are fighters, and Kayla and I are going to fight until we have nothing left within our bones anymore. We plan on being at this position until someone has to tell us to drop the damn things. And even then, they might get told to fuck off.
The Wolves of Gheimhridh are not here to play around and make friends, nor are we here to let people who couldn’t get a solid win over their previous competitors win anything at all.
Come and try to take our championships from us. Try.
It’s not our fault if you’re missing your confidence for the umpteenth time when you come back from the ring. Just like you’ll be missing the championships from your waist.
••••••
