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15 August 2022
Grünspan
Lower Saxony, Germany


Adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Such an addictive chemical that can course through your own veins that some people dedicate their entire lives to chasing that high. As I wiped the sweat off my brow, staring across the ring from my opponent that was trying his best to get up, I was realizing that in spite of everything I've gone through, at my core, I was one of those people. I was addicted to the sensation of adrenaline.

As my opponent tried his best to get onto his feet, starting by settling himself on one wobbly knee, I promptly cut him off by delivering a sharp roundhouse kick to the face, planting him as I paced around the ring, trying to figure out my next move. And yet, as I did, intrusive thoughts still permeated through my mind.

I was better than this. Wasn't I? I've been above this spot. I've fought against some of the best. I've fought for titles. I've main-evented Pay-Per-Views. I even dared to call myself a ruler. Fighting in some dingy venue that can't even fit a thousand people would, at the surface, seem beneath me. And yet, here I was, firmly in the driver's seat as some young punk was trying his best to overtake me to no avail.

The poor sap still persisted, using the ropes to pull himself back onto his feet. Brushing my almost soggy hair out of my face, I felt my bravado leaving my soul, replacing itself with an icy expression. As he tried to punch me, I sidestepped, and without even realizing it, I felt his gut almost threaten to cave as I punched him in the gut, followed by a sharp knee to there to double him over. The kid scrambled to the corner, holding onto himself in an attempt to prevent himself from puking his guts.

Right. Right. I was better than this. But then, I had sacrificed my chances. All talent, no drive. That was why I had left the heights of superstardom I was in before, instead now slumming it up these past few years on the independent circuit. I was capable of doing what I sought out to do, but I stumbled.

I pursued my target in the corner, flattening him with a sharp corner lariat. The air was kicked out from him, and I followed up with yet another sharp knee to the midsection, before taking the arm and attempting to practically yank it out of its socket by dragging it over the top rope. The fans in the first few rows winced, not having expected such ferocity, but I continued in my hunt, perhaps starting to let my inner frustrations leak out now.

I took the opportunities handed to me again and again on a silver platter, and I ultimately squandered them. I thought victory would come naturally to me. And I clung to that belief, despite life taking it upon itself to remind me again and again things didn't exactly work out like that. Loss after loss, defeat after defeat, my status and mind broke down around me.

Was the fact that I was continuing to fight regardless even worth it? Was continuing to chase this high from adrenaline lead to anything? Would I ever get back to the heights I was once at, get the chances I once got, and try to right the wrongs I made? Inner doubts clouded my mind, and again, it seeped out to the outside.

With the strength of a cornered animal, my opponent managed to shove his free hand forward, catching me right on the cheekbone in a desperate attempt to free himself and get back to the center of the ring to readjust his strategy. The distant approval of the fans shifted the air, trying to bring momentum to his corner.

However, I was too quick on the draw. I grabbed them by the shoulder, practically throwing them back into the corner and hit against their head with another roundhouse kick. The satisfying kick gave a sadistically satisfying, yet painfully brief pause to my own inner turmoil.

In that moment, with my own primal instincts taking over, inflicting pain felt good. I hadn't felt like that in practically eons. And so, I pursued it further, grabbing my opponent by that same injured arm I attacked just briefly before, bringing them into the center of the ring.

Yanking the arm, I brought my legs over, attempting to sink in a deep armbar and finish the matter with a submission hold. But yet again, that strength and desperation of that same cornered animal fearing for its life showed. He clasped his hands together, and in that moment, he assumed himself to believe he had a level of safety as I was finding myself unable to break his guard.

There are days I can still almost hear them. The voices that ridiculed me. The voices that told me I didn't belong. I would never admit it back then. Even now, feeling my mind drift to these unsightly conclusions made me feel like I was about to vomit. And yet... they were right, weren't they? I was just another name that faded into obscurity. I dreamed of being a champion, of leading that place forward into a new era. And there I was, wallowing in misery.

Looking for the submission, I raised my legs on his grip and crossed them, transitioning the Armbar into a Bicep Slicer. His eyes widened, unable to take the searing pain across his arm and quickly tapped out. And yet, in that moment, my eyes went blank, keeping the hold locked on even as the referee attempted to pry me off. I had won that meaningless battle in the moment, though with me keeping the hold locked on despite the referee's insistence, that was soon to change. After all, my desperate mind that was eager to climb back to the heights I was at before finally came to a single, broken conclusion.

Finn Kühn was just a born loser.

The crackling sound of bones breaking, mixed with the howls of pain and the raining boos snapped me from my reverie. My eyes turned to the size of dinner plates, and I quickly relinquished my hold, using my feet to backpedal while still sitting as I sat in the corner. The referee and the ringside doctor looked over the poor boy, and the gnawing sensation within my gut informed me that my revelation could not have come at a worse possible point.

I was a mess.

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Backstage
One Hour Later


I stared into my own hands with a blank expression, absent-mindedly flicking the trigger of my silver, ornate lighter over and over again. It vomited sparks again and again hopelessly, but no flame followed.

I was one of the only people who was still here at this point. Almost everyone left. For obvious reasons, given what just happened out there, no one was really in the mood to talk to me, at least after the whole disciplining and shouting and screaming from the other officials at me. I didn't have the strength to really muster any opposition at them. I knew I had been in the wrong out there. It wasn't like I could change that fact now.

The wheezing flicking of my lighter continued, even as I felt the presence of someone new beside me. I still didn't look up to meet them, but I drifted my gaze enough to see their feet. Flats with dress pants... It was probably another suit come to talk to me. Probably about my payment for this show, and how I'm probably getting docked after injuring my opponent out there. The guilty thought that I can't even bring myself to care about their name crossed my consciousness, but I put that aside for the time being.

"Sooo..." The woman began, unsure how to form words properly. A nervous chuckle escaped her, trying to fill the empty void of silence as I still did not properly look at her. The lighter in my fingers again wheezed out. "I, uh, didn't know you smoked?"

"That's because I don't," I responded in a low voice. "This is just a little good luck charm from my father."

"Ah," the woman managed to get out. She was still trying to figure out how to go things, clearly not wanting to poke the bear further, but also clearly having business to discuss.

"So... is that guy you injured going to be alright?" the woman managed to get out, the question clearly on her mind as she studied me.

"Fractured both arms in his forearm. Already said I'll cover his insurance. Least I could do after that," I said with a small shrug. The woman nodded, finding her footing.

Honestly, her hesitancy was honestly more irritating at this point than almost anything she could say.

"So, what business do you have with me?" I said, pushing the conversation forward in between clicks of the lighter.

"Well..." the woman began, starting back up again and seemingly being reminded as to why she was here in the first place. "Truth is, I actually got sent here for you. I'm actually a talent scout, and I guess... liaison as well for people I recruit?"

I paused, the lighter remaining still in my hand as I perked up. This was starting to get my curiosity, though my gaze still didn't reach her properly.

"Would you happen to remember about this liiiiiiiiittle company called the... XWF?" The woman asked with a sly tone of voice.

That was enough for me. My hand holding the lighter drooped, and my head finally craned upwards, looking to see who I was talking to. Long locks of blonde hair that almost seemed to blend into the yellow light was the first thing to greet me, and as I squinted my eyes to account for the light, I saw her skin was equally fair as well. Her face and body were slightly pudgy, though it wasn't an obnoxious amount. Her face, though, was coated in makeup. She clearly dolled herself up in an attempt to woo me over before she came to the show. And sure enough, she was sporting a nervous, toothy grin, hoping that her reminder of days far gone was enough of an attempt for me to hear her out.

It was.

It was funny how life worked, managing to pick someone up so quickly when they're at their lowest.

"What do I have to do?" I asked.

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One Week Later...


I slowly opened the manila envelope in front of me, letting the contents pour out. Files and pictures of two familiar figures greeted my eyes, and I made a small murmur as I looked up, my eyes peering over at the now-familiar sight of the blonde agent in front of me.

"So... Caroline-" I began, only to get quickly interrupted and corrected.

"Christine," she said, gently nudging me back to remember her name with a raised finger. Judging from the look in her eyes, it was clear I wasn't the first person this happened to.

"Right. Christine," I continued, adjusting myself in the comfortable airline seat. I had to hand it to Christine - she backed up everything she said about being affiliated with XWF and more. That same night I met her, she immediately got into contact with people inside the company, helping to get a contract sent over to me and I was booked straight away, and now... I was flying a private, company-owned jet back to America. They certainly upped their commodities - I remembered last time I was in the company full-time, you were kind of on your own in that regard.

But, back to more important matters. I resumed staring back at the files now and letting my hands slowly and subconsciously sorting them. "So this is who I'm facing to start off with coming back?"

John Black and Lexi Gold. One name was most certainly familiar to me - the other... not so much. I brushed through John's files, combing through to try and get to the more recent stuff. I knew by and large what his deal was, but the more recent years within the company as a whole was something of a mystery to me. One I had to look to rectify.

"That's right!" Christine said eagerly, a glimmer in her eyes. She seemed... excited to be working with me so closely. She had a far different air about her than Isabel, my old agent I had worked with in the past, but then again... she didn't really qualify as an agent for me, did she here? Christine was more like a pair of ears and a mouth I could talk to as a means of getting in touch with the company. Certainly welcome, and it would have been a welcome addition during my first run. "This should be rather easy for you, all things considered. You've faced way worse than these guys-"

"Maybe I have," I remarked, cutting her off as I finally got to the end of John's files, looking over more recent matters. He had made a stable these past few years, huh...? "But I think you'd also be a fool to overlook who I'm sharing the ring with."

Christine paused, considering my words as she brought a finger to her chin, pondering on it all. It was clear the gears were turning, considering just what was coming out of my mouth considering... my own history with my arrogance. Honestly, I couldn't entirely blame her for being a bit taken aback by it all. The me from a few years ago would have probably reviled at myself for daring to think I needed to take this seriously, but I held firm. Even if John Black wasn't exactly the most revered person inside the squared circle...

Finally, Christine gave me a simple response. "I don't get it. John Black isn't that good..."

I frowned. I had anticipated someone who worked in the company and so closely with some of the talent to have a better idea about some of the people in the ring, but it was no matter. I was just going to have to lay it out for her here. "If you look at this solely from the matter of a win-loss record perspective, then sure. John Black is a very underwhelming wrestler and most matches against him is nothing short of a speedbump in the road. But wrestling is very rarely so cut and dry like that."

I nudged one of the files over so Christine could take a look at it. It was clear she had very little to do with these, nor did she have much of an interest in the undercard of the XWF as she peered over, seemingly genuinely interested. The Blacklisted - such an effective Death Valley Driver, hit so rarely yet always managed to bring the people onto their feet.

"John Black, whether you like him or not, is probably the most tenured active competitor on the roster. There's a saying I think that can apply to this - 'Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.' And sure enough... he's 43, and been here almost through it all with little breaks in between. He's seen the eras shift. He's seen so many people come and go. And through it all, he's remained... a constant pillar that people can see and notice in the undercard. He's a glue guy, a guy who helps the shows go on, no matter what he says about the company. And he's made a career, alongside his stablemates, of getting those surprise victories out of nowhere. It's a possibility that those surprise victories might happen, sure, but no one really expects it. And yet, if you dare to overlook him, he's there when you least expect it, pulling out a win despite the odds. Hell, both of his stablemates are multiple-time Xtreme title holders. John Black, the wrestler, has talent. That much is undeniable." I leaned back in my seat, satisfied with my explanation.

Christine was silent, staring at me with wide eyes and drinking in everything I said, the compliments I had given to my opponent and analyzing his in-ring career, until she finally spoke once more. "Woah... I didn't expect something so... in-depth like that..."

I wasn't sure what else I expected from her, quite frankly. A casual fan, but a fan nonetheless. If she didn't know about John Black, though, I'm surprised she managed to remember back about four years or so when I was in my prime. But, Christine also continued, noticing what I said at the end with a raised eyebrow. "John Black, the wrestler though... Do you not think so highly of him outside of the ring?"

I frowned - Christine did manage to catch onto that, yes. She was naïve, but not imperceptive. I took a minute, trying to drag out the words from my mind that could adequately describe the emotions I felt towards that man.

"To say I dislike him might be too strong. He's simply doing what he has to do to get by and try to keep himself relevant. But I won't say I like him, or his antics either. These files prove he's kind of in the same boat as before with how he is." I shuffled through the files again, pulling out a new, still recent file and passing it along to Christine. It was a picture taken of John Black with both of his stablemates in Tommy Wish and Reggie Estrada - THUGS.

"That's... rather vague..." Christine muttered as she eyed up the photograph, not seeing anything too out of the ordinary. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"It's obvious," I explained, thumbing once more through the files. I had noticed something that caught my eye the first time I went through them, something that could illustrate my point perfectly as I went and hunted for it. "John Black pairs himself with Tommy Wish and Reggie Estrada, making themselves out to be this big, bad group of misfits, of... well... thugs that are all about saying 'fuck you' to authority, giving them a big middle finger, what have you. Hell, the group's tagline is about how they're the 'Outsiders' of the XWF. But in one breath, while John Black can go on and on talking about how he hates management..."

I exhaled softly as I managed to find exactly what I was looking for. Bingo. I brought it to Christine's line of sight, and she saw for herself. A picture from one of John Black's most recent promos, where it was a simple walk on the street, and having noticed a young fan and his mother that called out to him, gave to them two tickets to an upcoming XWF show. "...in the next breath, he'll do something like that. How was he supposed to know he'd go out there and meet some young superfan that he'd happen to give tickets to? This means one of two things. One, either he plans obnoxious publicity stunts like this that helps both his image and the XWF's, driving more fans to there as they see stuff like this. Or two, either he purchases tickets beforehand, giving his money to the employers who supposedly screw him time and again just so he can hand them out to fans. Do you see how ridiculous this is from someone who supposedly hates this place?"

Christine's face slowly lit up in realization, nodding along with me as I explained. But before she could chime in further, I continued. "John Black and his friends like to label themselves as 'outsiders' despite the fact that they do not have the background, credentials or the true attitude needed to be considered as such. In fact, considering how long both John and Tommy have been a part of this company, the fact of the matter is, they're probably the most 'XWF' part of the active roster there is. It's hard to imagine this place without at least one of them poking their nose in here or there in regards to matters. I'm not gonna sit here and say management is perfect, because they're not, but from a man who's been employed by them for close to a decade now, if not over it, you'd think he'd have some common sense. And yet, babbling on about this is disingenuous and a waste of time."

"John Black, the human being, needs to grow up and find a new slant. Because this isn't working."

A moment of silence followed as Christine seemed a bit stunned. With a long exhale, puffing the air out of her cheeks, she slowly collected the files I slid over to her on John Black, bringing them together and putting them off to the side for the time being.

"Okay..." She said, raising her eyebrows and trying to figure out how to proceed. She clearly didn't expect my rant, but... whatever. In the XWF, when you travel with a wrestler, the fact of the matter was you had to be ready for the wrestlers to explode into those at the drop of a hat. Seriously, how many times has it happened here? "I thiiiiink we might have talked enough about John Black by now. But... what about your other opponent? Lexi Gold?"

Nudging to me the other set of files, I grabbed onto it slowly, now exercising more patience as I went through here. Lexi was an unknown quantity. I didn't know what to expect from her, but I planned to find out. But really, what is it with people and just slapping on a color as a last name nowadays...

"Another person I can't afford to underestimate," I mused, flipping through the pages. I pursed my lips, feeling just the oddest sense of deja vu tickling against me. "Lexi's had success in other companies, and she's even a prior champion in her own right. She knows what it takes to win, but she's also learning that this is another realm entirely compared to what she's used to. Only what, one real win so far? But she's notched a few matches of experience on here regardless."

That was when I looked further. My brows furrowed together, seeing just what exactly Lexi had gotten into in the past. My right hand subconsciously tightened into a fist, and Christine noticed it. She stopped herself from saying something, sensing that I was going to elaborate regardless. And, well... she was right.

"Cheating is... complicated. A win is a win is a win, they say, and I agree. But I think how you get the victory is just as important. After all, what worth is a victory where you have to basically admit your opponent is superior by going to standards they won't crawl to for the sake of having your arm raised? No. Even in my original run here, I disliked the notion of cheating. Lexi used to not have such notions about the concept of cheating, but now... now, she claims she's turned over a new leaf..." I let my silence fill the air, my thoughts beginning to form the more I stared at these sheets.

"I have nothing against someone who tries to change. I'm trying to change myself from my last run. But... it's easy to say your motives are pure and you're attempting to correct yourself, but at the first sign of true adversity, you find yourself slipping into older habits." I shrugged, my expression easing a bit, though my tone stayed stern. "We're seeing this adversity right now with her win-loss record. But how is she going to adapt? Is she going to triumph? Persevere? Figure out the right way to win and stick with it? Or does she already have those detracting thoughts trying to nudge her back into old habits? Is she going to feed those thoughts? Is her will to win and be successful again going to overpower her to the point where she'd sacrifice her newfound morals in order to do so?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. But I can guarantee this. Lexi Gold has plenty of experience in her own right, but I won't let her take a victory from me here. Not when I'm just coming back. I'm ready to correct my own wrongs. The first step is everything here, and I'm going to make it a successful one. And I'm going to kick, and fight, and claw my way back to getting the opportunities I squandered in my past."

With shimmering eyes, Christine merely stared at me, looking like a kid on Christmas morning with the way she was almost slack-jawed. "Woah..." I was almost starting to get slightly miffed at this... but I didn't make any motion for now.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sure I'm kind of being annoying right now, but like... just... wow! I-I watched you back a few years ago, you know? I mean, sure, you were kinda... up and down and whatever, y'know, but like... I loved seeing you when you were on!" Christine was practically raving now, her smile unwavering in just how wide it was.

"Is that so...?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrow.

"Well... yeah!" Christine chirped. "I mean, sure, things weren't exactly sunshine and daises for a moment, but... your run in the Universal Championship tournament in 2018 opened a lot of eyes! Why do you think you were chosen as the Star of the Month for that, after all? Your matches against Chris Chaos and Jim Caedus helped get me into the XWF as a fan!"

"That was... long ago. Things have changed now, clearly..." I murmured in response, closing my eyes as I mused on those old days. They almost felt like a hazy, distant dream. Fighting against the best of the best... I knew I had that in me again, but I had to get back to that point.

"Well... yeah. I can see that. But you can get better than how you were! I mean, you're really taking this seriously now, so I mean... that's a big plus already! You can prove to everyone that you really belong! And... I'll help you with that as well as I can!"

Christine was nothing if not eager. She was a fangirl at her heart. It was a bit irritating, sure... but that burst of pure, unadulterated, infectious positivity felt like something I needed to keep my head on straight as I returned back to here.

"Maybe you're right..." I smiled, letting myself sit back in the seat as the plane drifted above the clouds. I was still at my lowest, but at least now I knew there was a light I could crawl back to.

Maybe... things could change here.