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Finn Kühn · (11-12-2022)

(OOC Note: Gravy and I agreed on Discord to have our match be for unlimited words. I hope you enjoy!)

1 November 2022
Brooklyn, New York

"I'm going to help you out of your mental block."

The bold declaration Skyla Hawkins gave in front of me as we both walked down the busy street let my hairs stand on end in anticipation. So that's what she was after with this. I gave a slight noise of indignation, following along with her. I didn't like this in the slightest - I told Skyla way earlier what was mentally weighing me down because I felt like I could trust and confide in her. Something like this, though... I don't like making a habit out of showing weakness. I was fine. I could go out there and wrestle, and that's what was importa-

"I can tell you're hesitant about this all," Skyla astutely observed without actually needing to look over her shoulder back at me. Damn her and her perception to Hell. "One hour and fifty-seven minutes. That was the cumulative match time you spent throughout the last week of October. That's enough to run most people into this business into the ground. And yet, you did it while asking for more in the process, even managing to power through nagging injuries that have accumulated."

"Physically, especially with my training, I don't believe anyone would doubt that you're reaching a new level. Your willpower is still intact, and you want to keep going, so that's not the issue either. But we can clearly see that something is fundamentally wrong and needs to change. Considering the issues you spoke to me about, plus whatever else must be nagging at you throughout the past years, I think it's quite clear that the block preventing your progression is purely mental." Skyla's explanation makes sense. Her logic was clearly there, and yet knowing what that entails... it was enough to just make me bite my lower lip out of sheer anxiety. My mental state was intact. I wasn't going insane or anything... I was fine. I mentally kept repeating that to myself, trying my best to brush off the insinuations she was making as we continued walking.

"Skyla..." I said, collecting myself with a deep breath. "I'm... flattered, really. But I've never needed a therapist, and I don't need one now. Truly."

Skyla gave a small noise in response and opened her mouth to respond as she looked back towards me. The nearby small crowd parted for us to make our way through with the puddles of rain splattering beneath our feet. Her mouth was opened... but her voice never leaked out. Her gaze was still locked on me. Her movements stopped. The people around us stopped. The gentle rainfall overhead stopped.

Even I was rooted to the spot. My heart felt like it was hammering in my throat, and around me, I could see the raindrops were suspended in midair.

"You and I both know that's not true."

That voice. That voice that was like sheer, unadulterated poison with teeth on my ears and fingers on my spine. Dripping inside of my mind, that damned voice kept ringing.

"How many losses does this need to take for you, hm? How many times do you look at your superior opponent in front of you, say to yourself 'I can beat him,' and fall flat on your face in order to realize that this isn't working for you in the slightest? You're not cut out for this. You aren't now. You weren't even before when you were at your supposed 'peak.'"

I couldn't even give a response within my mind to try and counter this. It feels like my own mental voice was frozen, too. All I could do was just sit and take this.

"What do you have to show from that supposed 'peak,' hm? One measly award plenty of people both deserving and not have gotten since? Some good showings against people at the top? You don't even have any victories from then to show for yourself."

"Finn Kühn is a born loser. He always has, and he always will be. If you want my advice, you won't be finding anything you're good at when it comes to wrestling. I'd suggest finding something else to do with your life... but we both know your pride will be so hit with knowing you failed here that you won't allow yourself to succeed at anything else."

"..." I still couldn't speak. Still couldn't react. Still couldn't do anything about any of this. As if it was now finally able to sense the bind I was in, that voice gave a small sigh of disgust towards me before fading away into silence.

The air was still for a couple of seconds even now, but it felt like hours. Eventually though, the rain began to fall. The people's footsteps continued to roam about. The traffic began to move again. Life returned back to normal after what was a small, unperceivable pause in reality.

"I never said I was good at therapy," Skyla's voice finally rang out, "but clearly we need to attempt something here in order to create a solution. Unless, if of course, you want me to go back to some more of your favo-"

Skyla turned around, now seeing my properly paled face after all that transpired. Concern marred her visage as she spoke. "Finn... are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

What am I supposed to say? No, I'm not fine, because I couldn't move at all while the voice in my head bitched and moaned about me? No, I'm not fine because I don't think I can do anything right?

I'm ridiculous at this point.

"I'm fine. Just under the weather under this is all," I shook my head while the steel sky continued to show no signs of slowing things down. "Maybe we can sit somewhere that's covered...?"

Skyla nodded, before noticing a small park with trees nearby. That was about as good a place as any, and we quickly hurried on over and sheathed our umbrellas. There was a small moment of silence, and I huffed into my hands to try and get some warmth back into them. Avoiding Skyla's gaze, I knew there was going to be little way of getting past this. And so, I shook my head.

"I don't like feeling powerless. And yet this entire time I've been back, that's exactly how things have been. My matches have been interrupted constantly, and I get mocked for wanting to actually win a match with just my two hands. I'm framed and made to look like I've done something I've denied repeatedly over and over again with that stupid match at Relentless, and Peter Vaughn gets to get off scot-free despite being the mastermind in the first place until Warfare."

Skyla was silent as I leaned against the trunk of the nearby tree, taking this moment to try and collect myself. It was a futile effort though, and instead, I found myself rambling. "Fact of the matter is, a lot of these people in the XWF are the same. They spout the same nonsense, go on and on about your past failures despite the fact that they love to ignore that they've been in similar spots more than once for a lot of them, and they try using shock value for the sake of entertainment."

"Micheal Graves is no exception to that rule. He's going to have a Universal title shot - because let's be real, nothing's been announced at this point yet but it might as well be confirmed considering Flynn can't keep Graves' name out of his fucking mouth and vice versa, and he thinks because he's having a taste of success now that he gets to lord over those less fortunate. Fact of the matter is, I remember watching a period in time where he lost to Charlie Nickles just like I did. Fact of the matter is, I remember watching a period in time where he lost to Raion Kido just like I did."

"So what if he lucked his way into a championship victory by managing to exploit a loophole in the rules and strike when the referee was down? So what if the overwhelming odds are he's going to go challenge for the Universal title? Do you think I care about that? Of COURSE, I fucking don't! That isn't going to matter when I stand across from that ring, looking Graves in his eyes, because I know every match is a fresh beginning. Nothing else matters except you, your opponent, and anyone who might try to get involved."

"If Gravy wants to go on about a winless month in October, let him. If he wants to go on about how he's above me and he's just going to focus on Flynn, let him. Because I've heard this song and dance before. EVERYBODY has. From almost damn near EVERYONE on the roster. Literally, just go onto the XWF website right now and look at the promo videos for almost any cycle leading up to a match. I guarantee you'll find at least two or three going on about stuff like this. How because one person slipped and lost a match, they're clearly inferior and they clearly don't have it to succeed. It's unoriginal. It's boring. And quite honestly, I mentally beat myself up harder over my losses than this fucking pathetic babbling."

"Seriously - THIS is who they're choosing to challenge for the top title because Flynn had him in his sights?! This is a fucking joke. Because everybody and their Mom is going to remember how a liver punch stopped him right in his tracks and had him fall onto concrete the last time he went for the big one. See, I can point out things like that too! Graves isn't special. He's not unique. He's a dime-a-dozen pissant who likes using shock value to his advantage and terrifies people while doing so. It'd be more effective if that weren't the M.O. of damn near half of the people who've ever stepped foot into this stupid place!"

"One of the only things he has going for him at this point is that he has the longevity of being around for ages in two separate eras of this company, but that doesn't mean much. Plenty of people have longevity to their name, but they're not some unconquerable, unassailable name just like Graves is. Graves' other talent is just being in the right place, at the right time, and now he's going to be using that to luck his way into a Universal title shot after losing his old title and will brag about it to anyone who'll care to listen. But guess what, Skyla?"

"I don't give two shits about anything else going on in his career right now. If he wants to take his focus off of me, then I'll spit in his fucking eye for that. I'm going to make him bleed for doing that. I'm going to take every ounce of my frustration, every ounce of my anger, every ounce of the power I'm going to take back on Saturday by caving in his fucking face around my knee and use that to humiliate him. I'm not losing on Savage. Micheal Graves is betting everything on making it past Mark Flynn, but he's going to fail at that AND he can sit tight knowing that I get to make a new blemish on his record with nothing to show for it."

"For me, it's a new beginning, and I'm going to ride that momentum to make sure Peter Vaughn gets his face caved in around my knee at Bad Medicine after I reveal what he's been up to on Warfare."

"For Micheal Graves, it's the beginning of the end of this little Cinderella story of his. And he can thank none other than Finn fucking Kühn for that."

I inhaled deeply, feeling my rage slowly starting to subside after it bubbled to the surface there. Skyla didn't make a move or a noise that entire time as she merely looked at me with a curious gaze.

"So..." I asked the woman in front of me. "What next? What exactly did you have in mind to get me past this... this block?"

The raise of an eyebrow could be seen as Skyla cleared her throat. "Well, now that you let all of that out... there is something I indeed noticed."

"You crave control, hm?" Skyla pushed off of the tree trunk she herself had been leaning on, looking me in the eye. I nodded, unsure of what she was trying to get at here. Skyla seemed satisfied at that answer, letting herself hum underneath her breath, and nod slowly. "I see... in that case, I believe that I can help you. Slowly but surely, we're going to work together not just physically, but emotionally in order to have better methods of keeping yourself under control. You need to be able to win the mental battle in the ring, not just the physical one. So for starters... you need to be better-"

9 November 2022
AT&T Center
San Antonio, Texas

"-about reading the dossiers I spend time putting together. I mean, honestly!"

The mental shift between scenes that brought myself to what was now over a week ago to now felt so utterly natural, even with Christine in front of me giving a starkly different aura about her than Skyla.

"Not like it would have made a difference here either way," I shot back at her. "Not with how that match went."

"So what, you're made that you got a win by countout?" Christine rolled her eyes.

"More so irritated that Centurion clearly decided he could skirt around on autopilot when it came to our match. But no, I'm not angry that I got a win." I took a deep breath, doing my best to keep my emotions under control while I pressed the rag to my forehead in an attempt to wipe up the sweat pooling. "I went into that match and won on my own, with my own two hands, with the same options open to me as they were Centurion. I'm not mad at that in the slightest. It's not my fault Centurion decided to be sloppy in there and go bump on his head. That's one name down on my own list, and if he wants to run it back ever, then by all means. I invite him to."

"Well, just because you got away with it with Centurion doesn't mean you can exactly get away with it when it comes to Graves! I mean, he's a Universal contender now, and you and I both know that's a big deal even if it's mainly down to him and Flynn getting in each other's business!" The two of us stared at each other for a moment, the manila folder promising untold secrets being waved about in my face.

Whatever. I took it, keeping a neutral expression as I opened things up and began flipping through. I knew plenty about Graves already. He was a mainly dirty fighter, because he can't get the job done clean. He relies on his foul tactics as a crutch. I knew I was going to need to keep a pair of eyes in the back of my head, but quite frankly I wasn't concerned for once. I knew I could beat him here. That was more than enough. If he was going to try and fight dirty against me, then he's going to find I have a lot fewer reservations about using such tactics against someone who's resorted to them first. He was scum. And it was scum that was going to be caught underneath my damn boot.

"So... think you got something in mind?" Christine looked at me while giving me a sharp eyeball. "Anything that you might... y'know... want to say?"

A sigh came from me in response. "I'm going to win come Savage," I said with my own roll of my eyes, "AND I'm going to make sure I win at Bad Medicine. This drama about this match has gone on far longer than it needed to. Peter Vaughn decided to get involved in my business. So I'm going to make sure he fucking pays for that. And if Buster Gloves wants to get in my way there too, then we'll settle the matter between ourselves once and for all."

"And then? Then I'm going to get back to having my main focus on what I said it'd be as. Beating more former champions and climbing the rankings, one step at a time. That's all there is to it. The Road of the King is a long one. And it's not stopping no matter how many losses I may be taking along the way."

Christine nodded, seeing my confidence was coming back even despite the fact that my win-loss record wasn't indicating I was at the best of spots. A moment of silence hung in the air between us as Christine figured out what to say. She paused, hesitated, before nodding and speaking. "How's the neck doing?"

"Fine enough," I said. "I'd say Centurion's is worse right about now. I'll be able to handle myself come Savage and Bad Medicine."

Christine sighed, deciding better than to argue against things at this point. "You're still not at 100% after that week of wrestling. I just hope you aren't shooting yourself in the foot by going along with this, Finn..."

"I'll be fine, Christine," I sighed myself, shrugging off the almost-parental levels of concern radiating from her. "If I can't fight, I'll say something. But until that point happens... nothing's stopping me from going out there and doing what I need to do. I'm going to fight, and continue to fight until I reach my goal. Because nothing's going to stop me at the end of the day."

"For your sake..." Christine said, looking me in the eyes as she turned towards the door of my locker room. "I hope you're right. Just... take care of yourself, Finn."

With that, Christine walked out of the sterile room, just leaving me and my thoughts. No time to just sit around - I forced myself back onto my feet, grabbing my towel and beginning to head over to the showers.

"It's time I get my life back."

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