PARADIGM SHIFT XXVII // RESENTMENT
NO, I CAN’T STOP FEELING LIKE EVERY DAY’S EXACTLY THE SAME. WITH A ONE TRACK MIND, I DON’T THINK I CAN CHANGE. TRAPPED IN MEMORIES, STUCK ON REPLAY, REPLAY, REPLAY.
A DAY TO REMEMBER .
••••••
It could be said that since the loss of the Mixed Tag Team championships, Finn Whelan had been lost from the company. Little jabs on twitter, sure, but visibility on programming? Finn was virtually non-existent. Some might say that perhaps the championship loss signaled a coming of the end for Whelan and his flawless year. Some might say that Eddie Lyons pinning him and Miles Kasey making a mockery of him might have finally ended his desire to stand atop everyone else.
In reality, he could have given a fuck less about Miles Kasey and Eddie Lyons.
Oh, certainly, there would be a time in which Eddie and Victoria would become championshipless – well, at least one championship less. But that was eventually, and in the here and now, the little jabs on twitter simply served one purpose.
Finn wasn’t an idiot. He watched the tapes. He saw what was an attempt to subvert and remove accountability. But everything was already done, everything set in stone. Whatever he and Alex Jones had to say was irrelevant to him, because he was steps ahead. At the end of all of this, Miles Kasey would regret the day that he ever thought that his wrestling career was more important than the relationships he’d made.
But that was the crux, right? At the end of all of this charade, they would be bosom buddies again, right? Working hard as peers in the same gym, working to fight for the glory that they could bring. That’s what this was for. It was just all fun, a chance for someone to attempt to go for the championship. That was how it was all portrayed, that’s what was said, that’s what existed.
Fuck that.
Anyone who knew anyone knew that Callien O’Hanlon, known as Finn Whelan to the masses, didn’t take kindly to backhanded shots and bullshit from people. He may have been a complete and utter asshole, but he was upfront, and he respected the people who came to him or showed up in front of him that earned their shot. He might have verbally destroyed them in the past, but he didn’t begrudge Eddie Lyons at all. He fought for his win, he attained greatness at Finn’s hands.
He would just also attain failure in the future.
Until then, Finn would bide his time. He would work in the shadows. And besides, didn’t he have enough on his plate?
With the Romani watching their every move, it was difficult for Finn to make steps towards anything regarding his other position within the world. Meetings were held virtually, or Dickie came to visit him. It was slow going, but Dickie’s presence within the crime world was steadily becoming stronger and stronger. Mutliple times, he thought that they would come for him or for his brother, but that never really happened.
The Romani only wanted one thing: Kayla, and Finn wasn’t about to give her up for anything in the world.
He had her watched, monitored from afar. Sometimes her friends or family would arrive right when she was about to take a step forward, and of course, his people told him. But he never wanted her to feel uneasy, or that he could ever be someone like Jace, or the Romani in general. He didn’t come to her and demand her to be careful, to keep her hand in his, to cower under a shadow. He knew she would resent that in the future, and yet every part of him attempted to protect her without her knowledge.
She went to her gym to workout, she met with her family, she went for nights out on the town. And she came back to him in one piece every time.
It wasn’t anything different when she showed up from her latest gym excursion. He heard her murmuring an assenting goodbye to Kallie, who giggled and affirmed as she shut her own door. His phone activated as the camera filmed them exiting and entering their apartments. It didn’t take long for her to set her bag down on the counter in the kitchen and then saunter her way into the living room where Finn was seated with his feet planted firmly on the floor and papers scattered everywhere.
She wore a cute little number from Lululemon that did exactly what she wanted it do to Finn’s personal psyche, but he wasn’t an animal and only looked her up and down with a smirk sliding up onto his lips as she “nonchalantly” drank from her water bottle as she looked out upon the decaying landscape of winter in New York. He shook his head a little and flipped through a couple of pages. It was accounting paperwork, and stuff relating to Wolfslair and his career, but fuck, was it boring to look through. “Good sesh?” He questioned, his voice raspy from not talking for some time.
“Kallie went with me. I swear, it’s like she has an AirTag on me,” she turned around to look at him head on, adjusting her “twins” as she did so, setting down the bottle on the windowsill in the process. When Finn didn’t look at her, she pouted slightly. “So you know it wasn’t a quiet session…”
He listened as she walked up to him, sashaying slightly. Finn picked up a piece of paper and peered at it.
A regular couple would have then had Kayla sit next to him, wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull some form of giddy relationship shit. But neither of them were very touchy-feely, and to be perfectly honest, a porcupine might have a better option of being touched. She knew he’d been on edge, especially since the loss of their championships. Regardless, she looked down at the scattered papers. “Why aren’t you at Wolfslair?”
Finn was silent a moment, not bothering to look up. “It’s stifling there.” He replied, finally. “I just don’t want unnecessary drama and that seems to be what people want. I’m thirty-six. I don’t feel like being asked a million questions over something ridiculous.”
Kayla picked up one of the papers and read it slowly, before looking over the top of it to him. “Mr. Jones,” she read loudly, “it is with deep resentment that I provide you with a resignation lett– Finn.” She frowned and tossed the paper. “Really?!”
Finn looked upwards slightly at her, tilting his head. Her voice carried an anger that she rarely used with him anymore, and honestly, one that he hadn’t heard since the previous year. She slammed her arms across her chest and lifted her nose in twitching irritation. “Are you fucking kidding me? I know you haven’t been the same since the shit at the last pay-per-view, but this is ridiculous.” She waved a manicured hand upwards, trying to continue to show her displeasure. “You’re letting Miles in your head.”
“I’m not really.” Finn replied calmly. “I told you. I didn’t want unnecessary drama. So I did the easiest thing to not cause it.”
“You abandoned Wolfslair just because, what, they didn’t get rid of the trash?”
Finn tilted his head completely upwards toward her with a raised eyebrow. “No. Alex didn’t accept it anyway. But have you considered that I put that it’s him or me nonsense into the air for a reason? I wanted this conversation to arise. I wanted this to be everywhere. As if I had a say in who Alex accepts into his gym…pffffft.” Finn snorted and shook his head. “Stupidity…”
She stared at him for a second, narrowing her eyes. “So the bullshit I saw with Alex and Mi–”
Finn merely smiled. He took a second, and then rose to his feet, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Enough about work…go get a shower, get changed, we’re going to go out to eat.”
Kayla smiled a little bit, but was a little confused too. She had no idea what Finn was up to, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Regardless, he was done talking and she knew there was nothing more that he was going to say. “Oh? Where are we going? Do I need to wear something nice?”
Finn’d walked past her and was headed towards his room. “Something nice, but not too revealing please.”
Kayla pouted for a second. “You said please…ugh. Why?”
He turned and looked at her for a moment, that smirking smile rising up once more. “Because…you’re meeting my mother.”
There was a brief moment of silence within the residence of Finn Whelan and Kayla Richards. But if a window was open, then the denizens of New York City would have heard the screaming WHAT as they went about their daily lives.
••••••
The cozy and expensive dining hall of the Tuscany Steakhouse in New York City was packed with people at the dinner hour. The vintage-painted white bricks of the arches shimmered in the low light the restauranteer assumed was romantic or alluring, and the white tablecloths were the brightest points of the entire area. Wait staff in their black and white attire moved from table to table, providing Italian dishes with flair and steak with finesse.
“Mathair,” Finn greeted his mother, who was already seated at the table, with a brief kiss on the cheek. Meara O’Hanlon smiled warmly and rose to her feet to hug her son, who only gave her a one-handed hug. His other hand was firmly latched in Kayla’s and her nervousness was palpable. She hadn’t been able to find anything that wasn’t revealing, and had ultimately borrowed Kallie’s black dress that came to just to her midthigh, a pair of heels and thankfully covered her breasts just enough that it couldn’t be considered risque. And she cringed the whole time.
“Oh, look at you!” Meara murmured, looking at her son. Finn had chosen, for once, to dress up for the occasion. Which really just meant a black shirt with a black tie and pants that still fit him ridiculously closely. “You clean up so well, I just wish you wouldn’t look like a ruffian in public all the time.”
“Thanks mom,” Finn shook his head, snorting slightly. Before sitting down, he gestured to Kayla, pulling her forward slightly. “My girlfriend, Kayla.”
It was the first time he’d referred to her like that in public. Not that they weren’t in that kind of a relationship, but they were always just so not-normal in their affection for one another.
Not that Meara cared. She reached out and hugged Kayla too, without even waiting to hear whether she should or not. She also did not comment on the fact that Kayla froze up. “It’s so good to meet you in person. I kept telling Roinn that you’re such a beautiful woman and Callien was an idiot for not saying anything sooner.”
“Aye, she did,” Roinn muttered, poking his head out from behind the menu. “You’re late.”
“Sorry,” Finn stated, though Kayla could tell he didn’t mean it. “I sprung it on Kayla and it took us a while to figure out how to get dressed for this.” He pulled out a chair for Kayla and appropriately pushed it in after she sat down. Kayla was slightly bewildered. As he sat down, she leaned in.
“She hugged me.”
“She does that.” He replied.
“You pulled out my chair.”
“Do this kindly and later, just the way you like it, I’ll pull your hair.”
Kayla couldn’t help but bite her lip briefly.
“So Kayla,” Meara continued, leaning forward and smiling brightly at her. She spoke kindly in her Irish lilt. “Callien tells me that you’re from Norwich?” She didn’t really wait for Kayla to answer, just continued on. “It’s a lovely area, especially in the summer. So very green once you’re out of the main city proper. I think I went once on holiday with me sister…very lovely woman; had to move out of London when her house burned down.”
Kayla glanced at Finn, who looked at his menu pointedly. “Mathair, she doesn’t want to hear about Aunt Maisie and her drinking problem.”
“True, true, true.” Meara nodded. “How about…oh, your career! You and Callien held those championships for such a long time.” When the waitress showed up, she didn’t give Kayla a moment to respond, “We’ll have the zinfindel. White. A bottle. Thank you.”
“Kayla’s also the World Bombshell Champion.”
“Very admirable!” His mother continued, smiling brightly. His father looked up again and peered at Kayla.
“A woman with aspirations. Better than he’s chosen in the past,” he smiled briefly, watching his son as he rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t even think that I didn’t notice that heathen woman bring you down. Both of them. Your sister…”
Finn tightened his lips slightly, but didn’t seem to show any other affect to his emotion. He hated her just as much as his brother did, and the mention continued to bury that hate just a bit deeper every time. “Regardless…we’re doing fairly well in our careers, thanks.”
His father’s expression changed slightly and he looked a bit like he failed for a moment. “Callien–”
“It’s fine. What are you having? I think I’ll have the steak. As usual. Mom?”
As the dinner moved on, Kayla realized slowly that she’d never seen it before, but Finn was maintaining control of the conversation by giving his mother topics to talk about. His father didn’t try again, but Meara happily conversed with the both of them. She knew Finn liked to keep control of situations, especially when it came to his career, or the information with the Yakuza or the Romani, but she’d never seen it actually in play. Perhaps it was because he didn’t trust his parents, or perhaps it was the venue. Regardless, she was both impressed and confused by his choice in demeanor. And as they kissed Meara on the cheek on the way out, and Finn paid for the meal after arguing with his father about who was going to pay, she placed her hand in his and found it remarkably taut.
“Finn.” She stated, raising an eyebrow.
“They put me on edge. I’ll be fine when we get to the house.” He replied sharply. She pulled back and slammed in her heels into the sidewalk, which rocked the Irish-American. “What?”
“I met your parents.”
“Yes.”
“They were nice.”
“Yes.”
“So, I get that the relationship is strained.” She tugged on his hand again as he tried to start walking again. “I saw you not be you that entire dinner because of it. I at least am owed a fucking explanation for it so I can understand why you because Finn the demure diplomat instead of the aggressive asshole I fell for.”
Finn exhaled out of his nose, looked around, and then stepped closer, leaning in slightly and dropping his tone. “When we get home.”
When she nodded, Finn sighed briefly and then continued the walk home with her, wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders. The entire time, he was watchful of their surroundings, and he kept his hand in his coat pocket. When they arrived at their home, Kayla threw off her shoes while Finn undid his tie and exhaled again. He sat down again on the couch and leaned over his hands, slowly calming himself.
Kayla didn’t think she’d ever seen him so stressed. She sat down next to him, and this time, pressed a hand to his leg. She waited for him to speak, trying to be the assuring and caring girlfriend that she wasn’t at all attuned to being at any point and time in her life. But she was trying to be a better human for him, and so was he for her.
“I don’t do well with people who neglect their children.” He muttered first, raising a hand to his face and placing it on his brow, covering his eyes. “I spent so much time as a child being treated as an afterthought once I didn’t want to follow the same career that he did. I was shipped off to someone else, I was left to fail because I didn’t want to take up becoming a brewer. I didn’t want to run his business,” he turned his head and looked at her then. “They abandoned me to the worst days of my life, and now they’re trying to repair it, and I get it. I’m trying to let them, but it is so difficult to me to trust those who turn their backs on people.”
And then it clicked.
It clicked in Kayla’s head. Why he wasn’t commenting on the Miles situation, why he wasn’t stating anything to her, or to anyone else in Wolfslair, about any of it.
He saw Miles as just another one of those people who he’d opened up to and burned him. Betrayal didn’t sit well with Callien. It wasn’t Finn just being an asshole, it was the man behind the mask he’d created as “Finn”. This was Callien. And it wasn’t often that even she got Callien. He hid that part of him so much so that he couldn’t be injured, and he created a moniker and self that wanted to make sure that everyone he created a relationship with never would feel like he did again.
She leaned her forehead in, pressing it to the side of his head and closed her eyes. “I get it.”
He relaxed and turned his head for a rare moment of affection, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Good.”
••••••
Hi Sin City Wrestling. Did you miss me?
I suppose I’m not as fun as returning retirees or you know, men who say they’re going to be out at least a year, but continue to show up because they like beating their own meat in front of everyone, but regardless…I am back from my short sabbatical which really wasn’t a sabbatical but a lack of actually placing me in matches weekly. Again, people can surmise or make up really whatever the fuck they want about the reasons for my absence, but the mere fact that my disappearance from the company really set my poor High Stakes opponent into such a tizzy because he wanted to cause a bit more petty bullshit for me and he couldn’t find me? That rose far above anything that I could come up with.
Regardless, before we get into the meat and potatoes of this whole thing, I want to say a brief congratulations to Eddie and Victoria Lyons. Had I been a little more discerning or focused, perhaps the Wolves of Gheimhridh would have been over a year with their Mixed Tag Team Championship, but the beginning of the year is not too far off and I got word that we do have a rematch. So you can count down the days in which you retain those championships. Or maybe you can lose them to Alexandra Callaway and Mi–
A large strangling sound happens.
I’m sorry, I couldn’t even finish that statement because it would be the biggest fucking lie in the existence of mankind.
Now, I suppose that I’m supposed to sit here and act angry and frustrated about losses and vow vengeance upon the poor soul that put me into this predicament. I mean, that would be the most archaic philosophy that penetrates this world. The story that I’m supposed to want revenge upon the person who cost me my championship – and I really don’t give a fuck how that’s potrayed by a sycophant British fuck whose only credibility comes from weeks and weeks of facing Barnharts to retain a championship. I think you all know at this point that I don’t do what’s expected. I mean, if we’re being perfectly honest, I wasn’t expected to figure out how to get into Kayla’s pants after we’d broken apart our friendship, but let me tell you, I do it on the daily.
Funny how you assumed that I wasn’t getting laid. As if that fucking matters in the long run.
Fucking travesty, but subtlety has never gotten past certain fuckhead’s brains, even when it needles its way through with a fucking ten gauge pick.
I don’t do what’s expected, do I?
You don’t see me backstage trying to find my High Stakes opponent and bash his head into the wall. You don’t see me vowing vengeance upon him. Because as much as it’s difficult for anyone to believe, when you’ve done something like he has done, you’re wiped from my memory. You’re wiped from the annals of my past, and I don’t give a fuck about you. Does that mean I’m going to have nothing to say at High Stakes? Nah, I have plenty to say. I’m just not going to give this any more credibility because choices were made, and this is where we stand.
And I suppose I should be angry and vowing to put Helluva Bottom Carter in the ground too. That would be the archaic thought. The ancient ideal that you fuck with me, I fuck with your family as a story to put him in his fucking place. That’s why this match was created. It has nothing to do with anything about there being a show, it’s simply an attempt for me to have to face the husband of the man I’m supposed to hate with everything in me. To force me to face the reality of the situation and give me the opportunity to destroy what little piece of relevance there is here to fix this.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do – but I’ve never bought into the whole hate the whole family for the sins of the father…or husband…or whomever the trifling cunt is.
But again…I don’t do what’s expected.
I never have, and I really never actually will.
This week – the go home show, two weeks before High Stakes – I’m facing Carter for no other reason except that there should be a story that goes into it to rev up my match with an ingrate. Except that there isn’t. Let’s look at the facts of this match, shall we? Buried in the idea that is a champion versus champion match-up, this is an opportunity to showcase the talents of the company while also forcing us together. Carter is expected to take up the mantle of his husband and proclaim that Miles will beat me one day, I’m expected to do threats, yadda, yadda…
I cannot tell you how much I am not interested in this match for the reasons pushed.
It’s not because Carter isn’t a great wrestler. I’ve always held that Helluva Bottom Carter has and will be a great wrestler. A generational talent, one that pushes people to their limit over and over again. But he hasn’t gotten there with this championship, and I said that the first time that we ever faced off. It had nothing to do with bygones, and maybe there was a foot on the rope, and maybe there was a lot of bitterness after that. It comes down to being given chance after chance and…not doing shit with it.
The last time that we’ve faced one another, so far ago, was for the Mixed Tag Team titles in April or May. This was, of course, after the Elite Eight competition that eventually led me to my championship. In that moment, Carter was angry with me. He was angry that I didn’t deserve to be champion, simply because his foot was on the rope and the referee didn’t see it. Now, the tune may have changed – I don’t know. But one measly little slip up does not negate an entirety of battles since. Kayla and I were dominant with the Mixed Tag Titles, and I have been just as dominant as World Heavyweight Champion.
You told me that you would never recognize me as champion.
I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. I didn’t get to this spot in my career by giving a shit about anyone else, and I wasn’t about to start now. I know my abilities. I know that if I really wanted to, I could completely fucking massacre you and leave you in a puddle of your own blood so your husband can gain all the sympathy in the world. And as much as part of me wishes I could do that very thing and leave you broken in the middle of the ring, I’m not going to.
Because regardless of your relationship and regardless of our past, I respect you. I never said I didn’t. I even said you had done great things. Look at you now, Internet Champion, reigning strong. Doing everything in your power to retain it. Growth happens whether people want to believe it or not, and you’ve grown. You continue to grow. But you’re limited in your approach because you care, Carter. When it comes to your husband, you care, and that’s your hindrance now.
It would be so easy to just drag you around to prove a point to Miles. It would be easy to turn it into this – at the basest of desires, it would be easy to turn this into the whole fiasco of Mercer and Kasey. Mercer, who attacked you simply because it was a way into Miles’ head. And it worked.
But if you haven’t noticed, I’m not Mercer. And I don’t think you understand how I operate. I don’t really think anyone understands how I operate, so let me spell it out for you. Wolfslair is a means to an end, and that’s simply it. If you asked anyone at the gym what their opinion of me would be, you would understand that I was pretty much a heretic, a hermit, someone who is simply there because of the prowess I provide. Austin James Mercer hates me. There is no tolerance there. I call Alicia Lukas a fucking Nazi regularly because we once fought in Germany and she looks the exact picture of the Aryan dynasty. Aiden Reynolds is the best friend of my little brother and if we’re being perfectly honest, the only reason he was provided an apartment at my behest is the same reason Miles Kasey was provided a place to live that he reneged on without a word: he needed it, and so did his pregnant girlfriend.
I’m not altruistic. I’m not a leader in this gym. I’m a means to an end. Alex Jones hates me, he hates my presence in his gym, but I’m still there because I am valuable. I’ve learned this long ago and I don’t begrudge it because at least it’s fucking honest. I don’t pledge loyalty. And I don’t pretend to help in a situation where I didn’t and don’t belong.
So this idea that I’m supposed to simply destroy you because of your relationship?
I could give a fuck less.
Instead, Carter, we’re going to have a match that proves why I’m the World Heavyweight Champion and why you’re the Internet Champion. We’re going to go back and forth, we’re going to face one another with brilliance and candor and it will be a great lead in towards our respective fights at High Stakes. You’re going to put me in my place, I’ll put you in your place, and we’ll have a grand time. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to sit there and do this because of your relationship.
That makes you smaller than you already are, and didn’t that happen with the state of America this week?
No. Don’t denigrate yourself and get into my business with your husband. Make this your fight is yours. You deserve better than being a pawn in the game. Because that’s what this is. A game. Simply put.
Be a rook, not a priest.
Be a knight, not a pawn.
Awaken and do this for yourself, Dreamer. Not for anyone else.
Just as this will be done for me. Nothing more.
Nothing less.
