Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Finn Kühn · (10-23-2022)

12 October 2022
Amway Center
Orlando, Florida

(10-12-2022, 08:58 PM)Atticus Gold Said:
Charlie manages to dig down deep, managing to prop himself and his weight up to reverse the armbar into a school-boy position! While there’s no covers to be had here, it allows Charlie to start dropping heavy hammerfists right onto Finn’s skull! The King in Rags is forced to let go of the Armbar to try and save himself, but he still looks as incensed as before!

The two sides quickly get back onto their feet, thumbtacks sticking out of their bodies all over as they take one rage-fuelled look at each other, bringing their heads back in unison before one last time -

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

It’s a miraculous sound, really.

It’s one that echoes throughout the entire arena.

Every fan goes silent once they’ve heard it. As fearsome as it was, it produced a sickening nausea in their stomachs out of worry of what these two men just did with their skulls.

The moment of silence continues as neither Finn nor Charlie move, both of their foreheads still pressed together from their headbutt while looking each other in the eyes. However, it does not take long…

…for a singular stream of blood to leak from a forehead and stain the mat.

Finn Kühn weakly drops forward onto his knees, leaning on Charlie’s body to even stay conscious right now as a single stream of blood leaks out from between his eyes like a slow-moving river.

...

“Oh… one more thing. I took the liberties of setting up another match between us. October 30th, at the Tara Fenix Charity Event in Waikiki, Hawaii, it’s Finn Kühn vs. Buster Gloves… Part II. What do you say? You wanna run with the Bull one more time?”

Buster sticks out an open palm and nods to Finn. The crowd eggs him on once more with “Yes! Yes! Yes!” chants.

Finn looks left. Finn looks right. Then he gives that crescent moon smile and grabs Buster’s hand like it’s a loaded gun. He shakes and nods his head in unison, the crowd going wild at what was now being promised to happen.

Warfare felt like nothing short of a blur at this point. Right now, that was all my broken mind could comprehend as I walked up that ramp. It was a Herculean effort just to prevent myself from collapsing on the spot as I wiped the blood pooling out of my eyes as Buster Gloves stayed with the fans to close out Warfare.

My stance was drooping and worn down with every single step I took. Still, I kept my visage together as the roar of the fans simply went in one ear and out the next, but the ringing that was permeating through my ears felt like it just couldn't be ignored...

And as soon as I hobbled through the curtains into gorilla position, my own weight violently revolted against me, taking my feet out from under me as I crumbled onto all fours.

My vision was turning white. Too white to be recovered. I wasn't sure what was wrong, but in that moment, my mind was not in the Amway Center, trying to recover from my head being bashed into smithereens by a hellacious match. My mind was turning into a grain of sand in the desert. A grain of sand that was sure to be swept away by the rushing wind and lost for eternity, that couldn't even pick up the rushing footsteps that came towards it -

...

...

As soon as my vision whited out, it returned just as quickly. My body felt like it jumpstarted as I came to with a deep breath, sucking in air like it was the most precious commodity that would soon be going to waste as I tried sitting up in bed. My body didn't obey properly; instead, what I got was something that could almost be considered a failed sit-up as I flopped back down onto the mattress.

Wait a second. Mattress?

My eyes took a moment to adjust now that I could see again, but the sterile white light of the trainer's room immediately engulfed them once they adjusted. I shielded my eyes weakly with the back of my hand, but the nearby voice immediately tried bringing me back to reality.

"Finn? Hey, can you hear me okay?" I... I know that voice, don't I? "It's Christine, Finn."

Of course, I couldn't remember her at this moment. I never thought trying to remember one woman's name would be considered an almost impossible task, yet here we are. I took another deep breath, trying to bring together the shards of my consciousness.

I opened my mouth to try and speak, yet no noise came out. My brain was almost actively frying itself in a desperate attempt to get myself to form words. I opened my mouth for a second time, straining myself in that same attempt to form words. Still nothing, but I could feel my throat straining itself. It's almost like I needed...

"Hang on, Finn. I got water for you. I'll help you sit up."

"Thanks..." My broken throat finally managed to cobble together enough strength just to form that one, single word. Christine took a moment to approach me, placing her gentle hands on my shoulder. After counting to three, she used her strength to help guide me to a seated position before handing me a water bottle. I quickly arched my head back and let the water drop down like a cascading waterfall that I eagerly found myself trying to enjoy as much as possible. It continued flowing in, and it was only when it was starting to overflow my mouth that I gave the water bottle back to Christine as I gulped down the refreshing drink.

A moment passed as I just kept taking deep breaths. The pressure on my head was hard to ignore, so I just kept my eyes closed and a palm pressed to my temples. I knew the light would be too much to bear if I opened my eyes.

"How long was I out?" I asked Christine.

"A couple hours. Most people have either head out or beginning to head out by now. The trainer stepped out to use the bathroom not long before you woke up, so he'll probably be back in a couple of minutes by now. You probably have a concussion, but he's probably going to be running some tests to make sure." It took a moment for Christine's words to truly sink into my mind. Concussion... My palm moved around the temple it was covering, feeling a line of stitches going from my forehead to right above my eye. My finger subconsciously traced over it, trying to think of a reason why that would be there. Then, it came to me-

"How... did the match go?" I asked Christine, still not opening my eyes. I was hoping to hear about a triumphant win, but part of me knew what those stitches meant-

"I-" Christine paused, trying to figure out how best to handle what she knew she had to say. A minute that felt like an hour passed between us, before she sighed and decided bluntness would be best. "You lost, Finn. You bashed your head against Charlie and you bled from it. Afterward, he tried pummeling you and Buster Gloves had to come out and help."

"Then after you two spoke about what happened at Relentless, he challenged you to a match at Tara Fenix's Charity Event. You accepted."

Buster Gloves... helped me? The concept of that, after what happened in our match, seemed like it was almost alien to me, and yet Christine's tone was completely straight-laced as she spoke. And the challenge... I was familiar with Tara Fenix's event from last year, and I knew she was hosting another one this year. If it was holding another Rumble too, then...

My mind which was slowly reforming itself found itself interrupted by a bump in the road as Christine's voice called out to me.

"You alright, Finn?"

"I'm fine," I breathed out. "Today has just... been a blur, is all. I'll live... and I know what I've got on the horizon now."

"Hey, Finn... you shouldn't get ahead of yourself. At least see what the trainer thinks first, yeah?" Christine's voice was one of genuine concern, and I couldn't fault her for that. And yet, at the same time, one of my eyes dared to finally open and trained itself right at her. The blaring light seeped itself into my vision, and it was somewhat blurry. I found myself grinding my teeth together in an effort to bare through it, and my voice was harsh in response.

"Why not?" I asked. "I'm alive, aren't I? If I'm alive, then I can keep fighting. That's what's important. The trainer can say anything they want to, but I know I have to keep going. Because this company has a track record of having competitors compete in spite of injuries. This company has a track record of almost, if not outright killing people during events. If I'm going to climb the ladder, then I can't let a simple concussion stop me. It'll probably be over and done with by the time next Warfare comes around, anyways-"

"Finn, you're acting selfish!" Christine finally said defiantly, leaning over and looking right into my lone eye herself. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and you know if Skyla were here right now instead of back in New York, she'd be telling you the same thing! You can't jeopardize your health like this with people telling you this isn't worth it! You have to-"

Now it was my turn to cut Christine off. I felt my aggravation beginning to boil over, and intrinsically my mouth moved before my mind could catch up as I snapped. "Is it selfishness to act and simply do your job as you're told to? Of COURSE it isn't! Nothing matters to me right now except going out there and getting the wins I KNOW I'm capable of! If I can't bring myself to be the best now or in the future, then what's the damn point?! Because I'm tired of seeing how this company is going!"

The last line came out of my mouth on impulse and yet mulling it over, I couldn't admit I was wrong. I knew exactly how things were going here. And yet, Christine stared at me for a long moment as her face drooped to almost like that of a kicked puppy dog. She backed up slowly, averting her gaze away from me as she looked off and to the side.

"...I see. Sorry nobody matters to you, then."

Before I could open my mouth to say how that obviously wasn't true in the slightest, the arriving footsteps occupied my headspace. Looking over, I saw the medical trainer walking in through the door, drying his hands still and blissfully unaware of what just transpired.

"Mister Kühn!" He said with a smile. "Nasty bump you took out there earlier, but I'm glad to see you're awake right now. I'll get right to the point - we think your concussion right now is rather mild and you should be good to go by the next Warfare, but just to make sure, we'll"-

The trainer's words drifted in one ear and out the other. I heard what I needed to hear. My head craned back to see Christine, expecting her to be listening in and offering her support as she always did.

But instead, she still kept that hurt visage. She refused to meet my eyes, and her demure face looked solemnly toward the ground.

...

If I was going to be good to compete in the next Warfare, then why did seeing that hurt face still sting so much?

21 October 2022
Brooklyn, New York

I let loose a loud yawn. The early morning was always rough, and it didn't help matters that I had stayed up late last night getting things off of my chest with Skyla. Still, I knew she had plans for today, so I had to get ready just for that.

The walk to the gym was always a busy one, but I managed to get in early. Opening my phone just so I could close my music for the time being, I saw it was 7 AM. A full hour before Skyla was going to come in. Now that the symptoms of my concussion were starting to really wear off now, I could just focus on some solid training before she told me about whatever crazy stunt she was sure to have in mind.

And yet, as soon as I opened the door to let myself in, I saw a sight I didn't expect to see in there. There, leaning against the ring, getting her files ready as her blonde hair flowed over her pudgy body...

"Christine," I said, unable to contain my surprise. "What're you doing here at this hour?"

Christine looked at me, a chilly gaze meeting my own concern. She closed her folders, her eyes not wavering as she spoke. "I'm just here doing my job. Something I'm sure you're aware of. Seeing as you decided to take on four matches this next upcoming week..."

Her voice was just as cold. There was no pleasantries, no asking how I was doing... nothing. I knew what the cause was, and I gave a small sigh as my eyes were the first to drift away. "Listen Christine, I'm..."

"It's fine. Nobody matters to you, anyway." Once again, my attempt to reach out and correct her were blocked and ignored as she walked over to me, handing to me two manila folders. "I figure we should at least start on your XWF opponents for this week since, after all, that's all my job description will allow me to help you out with."

...Ouch. I wasn't expecting Christine to help me out with my opponents in the Rumble or for a renewed look at Buster Gloves for the Charity Event, but hearing her repeat it let things sink in in that moment. I nodded slightly. She clearly wasn't in the mood for talking, and... well, it was my fault. I couldn't fix that right now, so instead all I could do was just bare it. Walking with her to the ringside area, I slowly opened it to reveal the contents.

"Ned Kaye and Goth..." I murmured to myself. Both of my Warfare opponents, both men who've clearly been around the block a few times... I respected one of them, the other... not so much. My eyes immediately drifted over to Goth, and they squinted.

"What kind of vapid, uninspired idiot do you have to be to literally name yourself GOTH?" I said as I shook my head. "And the sheer gall of him. My nickname may be the 'King in Rags,' but I say that out of humility for my current spot. This man got to the top elsewhere twenty years ago and still thinks he's hot shit enough to call himself the 'King of Kings.' If I could bring myself to properly care about him, I'd almost see his moniker as an insult."

"He's not half bad in the ring though," Christine pointed out beside me. "He's beaten Centurion, Latina Submission Machina, Mercy... if he was a bit faster and stronger at Relentless, he'd be an Xtreme Champion right now."

"And you know what?" I said to Christine. "You're right. Goth, even with everything else, can still fight. He's proven that time and again, and sooner or later, he's going to be a champion. But if and when he wins that belt, it's going to be in spite of himself, not because of it."

"I don't follow..." Christine said as she helped me flip along through some of the career highlights of Goth in pictoral form throughout the GWA. "Aren't you trying to say you're underestimating him? The exact thing you tell others not to do to you?"

"Obviously not," I shook my head. "If I underestimate him, then I'll slip up and I'll make the same mistake that's happened to Mercy, to Centurion, and to LSM. Things will go his way, and he'll end up the victor. But again... those wins happened in spite of himself. I mean, honestly - have you even looked at his stats page?"

I grabbed the top page that had been cast to the side, showing Christine Goth's application page as my finger went to one specific area for her to look at.

Goth's Application Page Said:
Strengths: scientific wrestler that is experienced after nearly 20 years and loves to manipulate his opponent

"When's the LAST time you've seen Goth actually manipulate an opponent? Show off some of that apparent smartness? No, Goth's like a twelve-year-old kid perpetually stuck in the nineties - he looks at himself and attaches to himself the first thing that comes to mind, even if they contradict anything he says. I mean, what kind of person thinks for a ring name, 'You know what I should go for? Naming myself after a fad!' I mean, just like a fad, he's trying to make a failed comeback right here and now, so he's at least got that going in his favor. But he thinks 'King of Kings' is a good moniker for himself, but in the next breath he'll go on about how he 'hates players who believe that they are Kings.'"

"It's ridiculous! And just like a twelve-year-old kid, every other sentence they say is like playing Russian Roulette in trying to figure out if they'll be saying something intelligible or if they just ramble into nonsensical ramblings and just use incorrect verbiage. How about Goth 'manipulates' himself into some actual mastery of the English language instead of saying random half-baked words in an attempt to sound even half as smart as he thinks he is?" Finn shakes his head, clearly out of disgust as he folds up Goth's folder and tosses it to the side.

"I hope he pulls it together. The more competition, the better, and yet... I don't exactly have my hopes up. If his gameplan is to expect me to slip up like the others have to this point, then he's going to be in for a rude awakening. Now, on the other hand..."

My hands went to the other manila folder. I flipped through the pages, letting myself take in the contents. Ned Kaye... no longer 'Notorious,' and he hasn't been 'Nefarious' for quite a while. I took a deep breath, flipping through again as I could feel the gears of my mind starting to spin.

"I think I'm a lot more... I don't know if I'd say 'sympathetic' towards Ned and his struggles, but I at least have a lot more respect for him than I do Goth."

"What, because you two have gone through having to be the low men on the totem pole? Because you've been trying to claw your way back to the top?" Christine said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"That's it - exactly it," I said with a nod. "I'm trying to prove myself right now against the best and the brightest this entire industry has to offer. And I start that off by going against two-thirds of one of the biggest groups in wrestling today in the Trilogy. I couldn't ask for a better start to the Road of the King. And sure, Ned hasn't seen gold in a while, but... in a sense, if my match against Isaiah King was a mirror match against myself in my quote-unquote 'prime' - and I use that term loosely given how inconsistent I was then - then my match with Ned is almost like a mirror match with myself now."

"He's a former Star of the Month. A former multiple-time Hart Champion. A former challenger to the Universal Championship, and we've BOTH fallen to the same man in that regard. Constantly in the mix for various titles, yet to many he's always a bridesmaid and never a bride, but he's been fighting like Hell to try and get himself back on the right path again... even if in having to do so involved freeing a gorilla from captivity so he didn't have to fight him." I shrugged. Christine and I both rolled our eyes at what exactly had happened with the situation Ned was forced in the last Warfare. Needless to say, neither one of us anticipated him having to face off against a literal gorilla, but... that was the XWF for you.

"Ned's been guilty of having to deal with shit from this company, but... he's just been dealing with the symptoms as they pop up and affect him, like the contest with the gorilla. I guess... that's what separates us." My voice trailed off, suddenly unsure of what I was saying. A finger went to my chin, in deep thought as Christine's eyes stared at me.

"What, you mean you actually care about others after all? When have you tried to do anything like what Ned did with the gorilla?"

"Maybe not yet, but..."

My mind hopped back to the conversation I had with Christine over a week ago by now.

("Because I'm tired of seeing how this company is going!")

...I wasn't wrong. Not in the slightest. All you needed to do was to just look at the current product to get my point. I slowly exhaled and nodded, coming to a conclusion.

"The fact of the matter is, Christine, I'm tired."

"I'm tired of so-called champions of this company thinking the best use of their time is attacking other people from behind on some sort of misguided crusade."

"I'm tired of this company pretending to play ball with an unemployed criminal and giving him an aired interview."

"I'm tired of people running away from this industry or going away to hide because they just can't take it anymore - and yes, I know that category for a while included me as well, but that doesn't change the fact that it needs to be fixed."

"And I'm tired of looking on cards and seeing such a few amount of matches for the show that was, once upon a time, considered this company's flagship."

"The fact of the matter is... I've never considered myself some member of the moral police, nor do I intend to start now. But for too long, we've seen the power at the top be misused for personal gain or just not caring at all about the little people. The people coming in. That... I think that is the true goal of the Road of the King."

"I want to give this industry a world champion from one of the biggest companies people can truly be proud of."

"I want this company to have and feature the best possible every single week with stacked cards in and out."

"I want people to look at this profession and think to themselves, 'Wow! That's what I want to do! I want them to look at us and chase after the same power we're chasing now in this company and raise the bar higher and higher for years on end!"

"I want... to face the best. To put on matches that are the best. I want to make a new, brighter future for everyone possible."

"That is the Road of the King. The road of creating a new domain, one that is brighter for everyone. And that's going to start next Warfare and onwards through one of the most grueling weeks a professional athlete can put themselves through. I'm going to beat Ned Kaye and Goth. I'm going to go to Tara Fenix's Rumble match and tear it up there. I'm going to knock off Raion Kido and make sure heads get turned my way. And I'm going to cap this off by beating Buster Gloves once and for all and proving to him that I don't need outside interference in order to get a win."

"The Road of the King stops for no one. I don't care what accolades anyone has, or what. When I step into that ring, I believe I'm the best damn competitor in there, and that's what matters. I want to give others that confidence, make them achieve that ability through whatever hard work they can."

"And if I have to risk my body in order to make that possible...?" I turned around on my heel, watching the rising sun out of one of the nearby windows as the sky was lighting up still. Christine looked to be deep in thought herself as a small smile crept across my own face.

"Then so be it."

For that one single, solitary moment... things felt peaceful. I felt good about my resolve, my drive to succeed. Even if I were to take a loss, I know I can bounce back from it now. I know I've truly arrived. And I know that maybe... maybe... I can get the gold I've been chasing all this time.

Of course, the peace had to be disrupted by someone new coming in through the door.

"Finn! Glad to see you've made it in here ahead of me."

The voice of Skyla Hawkins never failed to send goosebumps down my spine.

"...Ah, shit."

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Act CIV: The Pursuit of Power
Author	Message