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Finn Kühn · (12-21-2022)

17 December 2022
Santa's Village
Jefferson, New Hampshire

Irritation.

That is the only sensation I feel right at this very moment, as I get my clothes in order and brush a hand through my freshly-showered hair. A win was a win in this case, and I went in and dominated against Emmanuel D’Monstre as I knew I would. Though he was not even close to the caliber of competitor I was hoping to face, he was not the reason I was feeling like this.

No. Rather, it was from none other than what happened after the match. As if it were magic, a pumpkin of all things appeared beside me, beckoning me to open it and showering me with whatever holiday nonsense came of it. Confetti, music… even if it wasn’t a hostile message being sent, it did its job and then some of getting under my skin. Was it meant to be targeted for me specifically though, or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up being the recipient of some ‘holiday cheer?’

…

Whatever. Right now, I have bigger things to be concerned about. The ‘pumpkin’ mystery could have my full attention if it persists after Warfare. For the time being though, I was having to head to Vegas to record an interview with the WGWF’s own Derrick Diamond for my proper in-ring debut coming soon, and then it was a trip home for training and prep work.

As soon as I opened the door, both the figures of my company liaison in Christine, and my trainer in Skyla were already facing me. Mild smiles were on their face, indicative of a conversation whose topic I didn’t have the slightest about being shared with them. Christine was the first to step forward, pressing her hands together as she nodded.

“You know, for someone who just won a match, I wouldn’t expect you to be looking so grumpy,” Christine chided as we walked along.

“Yes, well, you’d be angry too if you had to wash off Christmas-colored confetti off of your sweaty skin. That stuff clings to your body,” I responded as the three of us walked along. Skyla held her tongue for the time being, letting Christine be the motormouth she had a tendency to be before we got down to business on our way out.

“C’mooon, Finn!” Christine needled me along. “Keep up that attitude, and Santa won’t be putting you on the nice list any time soon!”

“Yes, yes, very funny, Christine,” I rolled my eyes in response with a smile on my face. Santa… right. I had to prevent myself from actually looking sour as that ridiculous moment at the beginning of the show aired with Peter Vaughn exposing that ‘false’ Santa. Before Christine could give me a response, however, I decided it was best to try and cut to the chase. My head craned towards the two, eyes turning firm.

“You two have the files, right?”

“I have them this time, yes,” Skyla said as she reached into her bag, pulling out five thick folders to place into my hands. “I don’t think you’ll be having the luxury of not wanting to rely on the additional information this time, Finn. With you starting from the very beginning and lacking the legacy behind your name that someone like Chris Page might, you’re probably having one of, if not the longest set of odds of winning this thing.”

“Don’t need to remind me of that fact,” I sighed as I looked down at the material in front of me. So much to study… so little time. To say I needed to put my nose to the grindstone was an understatement. Truth be told, I wanted - no, needed this win.

True, the Road of the King can go on for as long as it needs to, but that doesn’t mean I want to toil on it aimlessly forever. The chance to win a singles title, punch my ticket to the first big event of the new year in style for a marquee match… If I was going to prove to myself and to everyone that I was better than how I once was, then there was no way I could just accept me taking a back seat in this match unless I truly gave this my all.

“Cheer up, Finn!” Christine eagerly chirped behind me. “It’s Christmas time, after all! So turn that frown upside down and try thinking positively going ahead into this match!”

I snorted. Out of all the times to try and sell me on the holiday spirit, considering what just happened out there, this was not the day to try and do so.

“Bah Humbug, I say…”

Present Day

“Well. I asked for opportunities. I asked for the big matches. I asked to face former champions so I could prove myself out there, in the ring, and prove I belong.”

“Five opponents. Five former champions. The semi-main event on the final Warfare of the year - the final Warfare to ever be held on a Wednesday night, with the prize at stake being none other than a title shot, granting you the fast lane right to Snow Job for a Television Championship match…”

“There are fewer stages I could ask for that would be grander than this. Allow this humble King in Rags the duty of addressing his opponents - some who may be glimpses of who will rise in the future, and some who rise as flashes from the past.”

“Mastermind is one of those flashes from the past. I won’t downplay his achievements - in my first match back, the label I gave to John Black of all people was ‘Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.’ For Mastermind and one other person I’ll be getting into later on, this quote rings especially true.”

“However - while I will say Mastermind has done a lot for the sake of the XWF, you are also deluding yourself if you think the caliber of competition he is providing in the year 2022 is worthy of such a grand opportunity being placed on the table before him. For someone who goes on about ‘mastering others’ minds,’ what he needs to master is the art of retaining knowledge. Frequently he shows and displays that he just doesn’t care about matches. He discounts his opponents easily, gets information on them wrong as easily as he breathes, babbles on and on in circles about how he is the superior man in a match simply because of his experience…”

“You don’t even need to take my word on it, mind you. Look at his promos in the leadup to Savage. One moment, he’s declaring Isaiah King a worthy adversary in his own right, yet taking the championship for granted in spite of almost every promo he’s delivered. Then in his next promo, he will go on about how he places too much emphasis on his own reign, and yet he’s nothing but a middling competitor, if even that.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying? Mastermind simply… does not even think about what he says. He does not even think about his opponents. He is a ‘Misfit’ in so far as his ridiculously incompetent behavior drives everyone to push him away. Because why would we even bother with someone like him? Why do we even want to pretend like he’s some genius tactician in that squared circle? We’re lucky he hasn’t been hit on the head so hard at this rate that he’s forgotten his name.”

“But no, the juiciest detail about Mastermind is how he operates in that ring. I’m the last person who will harp on someone for losing, of course. It’s not the fact that he loses often that gets me, no, no, no. But rather, it’s his attitude around… everything. Like a sniveling cockroach, Mastermind tries wriggling and worming his way into opportunity after opportunity.”

“Shortly after losing the Anarchy Championship in September, you kept yourself in the mix to try and go after Edward for the belt once more. Your stable faced him in tag action…”

“A loss, of course, but one could hardly blame you for still wanting to try again. After all, it’s not like you were facing him, right?”

“But then you faced him again once more for the title in late October. That was, again, another decisive loss. At this point, the powers that oversee Anarchy were tired of giving you your chances to get the Anarchy Championship for yourself, as they got a Number One Contender’s tournament going.”

“But wait - just wait, you say! Surely, this time will be different. They gave you one last chance, teaming with your group to face Edward and his family. But you threw it away for the sake of having a man advantage against them and sending a message. Well, now he’s angry towards you, right?! NOW is the chance to just win the Battle Royal, defeat Ruby and make yourself Number One Contender one, last, ti-”

“Oh. Wait a moment…”

“You… didn’t exactly win that, did you?”

“Well, you say, dusting your hands as you get back up after having your soul powerbombed out of your body at the hands of Bobby Bourbon at Bad Medicine. If I lost my chance at the Anarchy Championship over the span of two months more times than some competitors even get title matches within an entire year, then it’s time to recalibrate! Chart a new course! Figure out another title to get around your waist! Surely the Television Championship will be an excellent place to start!”

“Except… that didn’t happen either. Isaiah King got the job done convincingly against both you and Geri.”

“All of these failures, every single time, while in almost every single instance you played fast and loose with the rules. You took underhanded methods. You brought your flunkies in to help fight your battles for you. You took the rules as mere suggestions, and yet with all of these extra bonuses and advantages going your way…”

“You… still lost. Every single time.”

“Honestly, don’t get me wrong. I’m actually impressed someone can consistently choke this bad while stacking the deck in his favor constantly. But that begs the question… what are the General Managers doing? Why are we rewarding mediocrity? Why are we rewarding negative habits in the ring in the way Mastermind uses them? Why are we giving him chance after chance after chance when Mastermind has shown continuously he cannot rise to the occasion? If you want to point out my own record, then sure. Fine. Go ahead. But at least I can say in this run I’ve been losing to top-notch competition and stealing the show with them each and every single time and beating respect for my name into their skulls.”

“When was the last time someone can genuinely say Mastermind made someone respect him?”

“That’s what I thought. Therefore, Mastermind, since we’ve established that you are a fucking idiot, I’m going to break this down nice and slowly for you. Read my lips. Commit this to memory. Repeat it on playback over and over in that broken ‘mind’ of yours, because after this match, I never want to see you across the ring in a match from me ever again unless you take my advice to heart.”

“If you fail to acknowledge your faults…”

“If you continue taking shortcuts…”

“If you keep having the kids off the Short Bus fight your battles for you…”

“You will NEVER be on my level.”

“And speaking of someone who’s just been gift-wrapped an opportunity on a silver platter yet again…”

“Hello, Geri Vayden. We haven’t met before.”

“Allow me to say, I respect you to a degree. I respect the fact that you’ve managed to luck your way in the past into three different title reigns, one of which didn’t even last a month and another you literally lost on the same night. I respect the fact that, in spite of some of your in-ring performances making plenty of people think to the contrary, you’re a former Olympian. I respect the fact that no matter what, you usually try your best inside of that ring.”

“The unfortunate fact of the matter is, your ‘best’ isn’t good enough.”

“Let’s not delude ourselves - you’re a person meant to fill a chamber pod because management felt bad that interference decided the outcome of your Television Championship match. I feel a degree of empathy for that, indeed - but all this has done is simply delay the inevitable.”

“Outside of winning that one Shooting Star title you clung to like it’s your lifeline, the basis of which you deliver your supposed proficiency in the ring… what have you done?”

“Be the whooping girl of several champions being delivered an off-night?”

“Be an also-ran alongside that abysmal group known as the Left Hand?”

“I hope you prove me wrong. I hope you go out there and prove to me what your ‘all’ consists of. I hope you prove to me that in your brief hiatus from this company, you went out into the world and picked up a few new tricks and you’ll surprise everyone by proving you belong in that Chamber by putting up the fight of your life.”

“I don’t hate you, Geri. I think you lack the mindset to succeed, but I don’t hate you.”

“But I hope you pray to whatever God you believe in that you find that mindset soon.”

20 December 2022
Brooklyn, New York

As the sunken gray sky peeked clouded sunlight into my room, I rubbed my crusty eyes and let loose a loud yawn.

I could hear chatter outside my room. That was… Christine and Skyla. My brows furrowed - how did they get inside? I turned to look at my nightstand, seeing 1:07 PM staring back at me in bright blue numbers.

Oh, fuck. Did my alarm never go off? Either way, I was already behind for the day, and this was not the period of time I wanted to have this be the case for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I muttered under my breath, throwing the covers off of my body and hustling around my room. Just need to throw on a new shirt and shorts, slip on shoes… I could worry about showering later - if Skyla really was inside of my house, then…

Wait. Two things popped into my mind as my fragmented mind pieced them together in realization.

One, how in the blue Hell did Skyla and Christine get inside of my home to begin with?

And two… what were they even discussing?!

“Surely you recognize just how ridiculous you’re sounding right about now…”

“Am not! You take that back right now!”

For the love of… Well, looks like I’m going to have to be playing Peacemaker here. I closed my eyes, whispered a silent prayer under my breath that I wasn’t going to be having my head practically bit off by the two of them, and went out of my room. As I walked through my small, almost cramped apartments, I at least made an effort to undo some of the tangled knots in my hair.

Just as it felt like the argument between the two was about to kick into a higher gear, my footsteps cut through the air, prompting them to pause on the spot. As I turned out of the hallway, I saw the two of them in the living room, standing and glaring at each other for a short while before turning to look at me.

Christine’s face held a look that was a mixture of pure guilt towards me, mixed with a sense of underlying stubbornness - it probably had something to do with the argument she just had with Skyla. Skyla, meanwhile, was far more lax in stance and posture, looking at me with half-laden eyes and crossed arms.

“Took you long enough,” the raven-haired trainer said. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

“How the Hell did you even get in here?” I asked. I walked forward into the room, a flabbergasted look on my face as I shook my head.

“I picked your lock. It was a simple occurrence, naturally.” Skyla spoke without a hint of hesitation in her voice, merely shrugging at the weight of what she had just uttered.

“I… You didn’t even think to try and call me? You just defaulted to picking my lock?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Finn, she did try.” Christine’s voice rang out herself, causing me to turn to face her. “We both tried while we were outside your apartment room. I was wanting to try again later on, but Skyla figured if you didn’t get a move-on on your training, you wouldn’t forgive yourself if it meant you’d be losing on Warfare.”

The explanation brought an exhale over my body. I nodded slowly while doing so - true, that’s probably exactly what I’d do. I didn’t like the fact that Skyla took such drastic measures, but I could at least understand why she’d do so in the first place.

“Just… never do that again, please…” I sighed, deciding to let the matter be for the time being as Skyla gave a gentle nod as an affirmative. Well, with that out of the way…

“You two were about ready to start yelling at each other. What the Hell happened?”

Skyla and Christine shared a glare with each other. Christine’s glare immediately wilted under the weight of Skyla’s own, now instead looking like a nervous child as Skyla was unamused. “Go on. Tell him.”

Taking a deep breath, Christine turned to face me with as much energy as she could muster. “Well… while Skyla was picking the lock to your door, we made some conversation together. One of the topics was just… ‘oh, what are you getting for others for Christmas?’ I told Skyla what I had in mind, and then… I… I said ‘I wonder what Santa has in store for me,’ and…”

Tell me I didn’t just hear that properly.

I turned to Skyla as Christine continued babbling on and on and on, looking for some sort of confirmation. The glimmer in her eyes told the entire story.

Holy fuck. Christine was being literal the other night with that holiday cheer crap and preaching about Santa. I exhaled, feeling the air deflate out of me and my stance falling forward ever so slightly.

“Oh, come on!” Christine said as she watched me in realization. “Not you too! I’m telling you, Santa does exist!”

The fact that a grown woman was still believing in a fanciful fairytale like that was astounding. The more I think I have Christine figured out, the more she continues to vex me further.

“Christine…” I sighed out. “How do you think Santa would get from house to house so quickly like that?”

“His reindeer are just really, really fast!” Christine replied with vigor in her voice.

“Uh-huh…” Great. Well, maybe I could try tackling this another way. “Christine, do you live alone?”

“Uh… yeah, I do. Why?” She nervously responded to me.

“Okay, then in that case… these past few years with you living alone. Have you ever gotten anything under the Christmas Tree from… from Santa?”

I still couldn’t believe I was having to have this conversation with anyone that wouldn’t be my hypothetical future child right now. I rubbed my sore temples, as Christine’s own posture slumped forward and she looked at the ground.

“No…” the poor girl admitted to me.

“Well, in that case, then-”

“…because I always wait in the middle of the night for Santa to come down the chimney. But he never does. Because people who wait for him like that are on the naughty list, but I just can’t help it…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…I’m taking a walk.”

“No, wait- Finn!” Christine desperately said as she tried to stop my path. “C’mooon! Why can’t you embrace the holiday spirit?! He’s just real! He just is! I mean, you should have heard some of the stuff Skyla was saying! ‘Fake holiday pushed by corporations’ this! ‘Parents are in on it to get their children gifts’ that! As if a conspiracy like that could ever be pushed this long!”

Lord, so help me.

“Christine, that’s great and all,” I said, biting the urge to call her stupid right then and there, “but I haven’t been needing to have the ‘holiday spirit’ for years now. I’ve been living alone myself too while out in Germany for years, remember? I didn’t have anyone to spend it with in the first place. I mean, it’s not that I hate Christmas, I’m more so just… indifferent to it, at this point.”

“But that’s not right!” Christine protested. “This time of the year is all about the holiday spirit! Maybe if you just accepted even some of it, you’d be feeling a lot better about yourself…”

“Christine,” Skyla’s stern voice finally cut through. “Give the poor lad a break with this nonsense, will ye? You can’t just force someone to adapt to… your way of thinking.”

Forced to accept defeat, Christine simply looked down and gave another sigh. I looked at Skyla, suddenly very thankful I had her by my side in this case as I made sure I got everything in order.

“I’ll meet up with you in the gym in a little bit to get started training,” I said with a wave goodbye to the two ladies still in my house. Right now, though, as I went out of my apartment and down the stairs into the world at large…

I needed some fresh air.

Present Day

“And it’s funny that I touched upon Geri not having the proper mindset, you know, because I think two of the next people I’m going to be discussing fall perfectly into this unfortunate little pattern. They’re… different, though, in their own way from Geri. They’re two people who I think have all the talent in the world, and I’ll even make the bold prediction that a certain one of them will undoubtedly be champion again sooner rather than later… but that won’t be coming until she fixes herself.”

“Latina Submission Machina can go into the ring and, when she gets down to business and puts her nose to the grindstone, can match anyone hold-for-hold on any given night. If you’re not careful, she’ll go ahead and twist you into a pretzel before you realize it. When it comes to the art of the submission, even at a young age, she’s already forgotten more than what most people will ever come to learn. As someone who holds a submission hold myself as a finisher, I was hoping my match with her would come under a more standard ruleset… but I realize beggars cannot be choosers. So, here we are.”

“I believe it’s this very ruleset that is going to lead to LSM’s own undoing, quite honestly. Chamber matches are types of matches that favor a more… direct course of attack. With the amount of people flying about the area at any one given time, plus unforgiving steel surrounding everywhere, brawling and speed is what you need to use to your advantage. Take one look at any of her matches though, and it’s rare you’ll see LSM opt to go in for an extended period of time and try for a striking exchange. In fact, whenever she goes in to do so, the odds are good you’ll be seeing her suffering as a result of this choice.”

“I appreciate the art of the submission. It’s one I follow closely. But tell me - what use will trying to twist someone into a submission be when they’re trying to toss you like a ragdoll on the outside into unforgiving steel? How will you ensure a tap out when someone can come in from any different angle and see the perfect opportunity to land a sneak attack on you? A Chamber match is far too chaotic for that type of stratagem. And considering LSM has shown time and again she does not like going outside of her comfort zone, either she’s going to need to grow fast or she’ll be left in the dust.”

“That’s not really my biggest problem with her, though. So far, I’ve been keeping my critique of her to an analysis of her in-ring skills. But if you paid attention before, you’d see that I was critiquing her mindset, her mentality.”

“I think if you take a look at the LSM of today and the LSM of even a few months back, you’ll see a stark difference. When LSM is focused and determined to make her mark, she’s exceptional in that ring. But just take a look at her in the leadup to her most recent Anarchy match. She couldn’t even afford Ruby the courtesy of a full conversation where she could look at her in the eyes. What was she doing instead?”

“Why, she’s casually browsing Twitter, letting what others think of her infiltrate her mindset, and responding to them in subtweets constantly. Now, I don’t have anything against Twitter users. Even if I rarely use mine, I have an account myself. But… you need to recognize the fact that your matches should always be coming first and foremost. The only reason LSM got the win in the end on Anarchy was because she had Ruby to keep her head on straight and keep her in the game. I don’t think you can look at that match and argue with me otherwise, because in my opinion, considering what LSM can typically do, her output on Anarchy tells the whole story.”

“If you want to have a chance at coming out here with the win, LSM, because I think you’re most certainly capable of doing so… then stop holding back. Stop with the Twitter nonsense. Stop thinking that’s how you’re going to unlock the way to victory.”

“The way to victory is going to come with you bringing every ounce of your A-game come Warfare.”

“And now, speaking of someone who doesn’t like bringing their A-game… Dick Powers.”

“What is there to say, really? Dick Powers is someone who is unequivocally unapologetic about the fact that he phones in his performances. He uses his natural talent as this magical golden ticket, expecting it to carry him as he skates by on easy victories.”

“Now sure, that’s what got him a Television Championship victory. That’s what allows him to have his name etched into history. However…”

“Isn’t it also noteworthy that Dick Powers lost his championship in his first defense? In fact, he begun a chain of Television Champions losing the belt in their first defense. For someone who claims to make everything better, as soon as he laid his cum-crusted hands on that precious title belt, the prestige of it went down to the water, and it’s only now slowly being built up once more through careful work on the end of the current champion… even if his latest victory is rather, ah… unsavory, shall we put it.”

“So, what makes you think you’re going to be capable of winning this match, Dick? Because if you keep that same energy - if you keep that desire to coast and not give a damn about anything, you are going to lose. It is not speculation - but rather, it is predication. If you don’t believe me, you need only look at his track record to see for yourself.”

“And now… I finally come to the final person in this Chamber match. The man I’ll be looking to go the distance against from the start to onwards.”

“Chronic Chris Page.”

“It’s not every day you get to face your brand-new boss in a wrestling match, but here we are. This man represents the heart of the corruption pervaded within the wrestling industry today. The man who has a group with wrestlers who blend in together at this rate - so many, in fact, I’d even wager that there’s more of them than Mastermind has technicals.”

“He’ll be quick to point out his own resume, I’m sure. And he has every right to. In the world of professional wrestling, you can count the names considered bigger than Chris Page on one hand. I’ve seen him in action myself - you’d be a fool to consider him as past his prime when it was only just about two years ago now that he held a convincing Universal Championship reign, and to this day still has vast swathes of momentum as he’s traveled throughout the globe, facing the best and the brightest.”

“Indeed. If there is ever one person I need to aspire to beat to know I’m at least capable of becoming a Universal Champion in the future after completing the Road of the King, that man is Chris Page.”

“And that is exactly why I will not lose.”

“Page, for all his strengths that he will be quick to flaunt, is only a mere man at the end of the day, no matter how much of a ‘legend’ his name is baked into being. Everybody always has a chink in their armor to exploit. The difference between the good and the great wrestlers is they know how to find and exploit those chinks.”

“And Page, your armor has many chinks in it. They’ve been found and exploited many times in that ring. Hell, even if your record is damn near excellent in that ring this year, you and I both know that over your long career, you’ve lost plenty of matches. More matches than most people would ever be able to comprehend, but you make up for that and then some with plenty of victories to counteract that.”

“If there is any one thing I excel at, Chris Page, it’s that I can adapt my strategy as needed. In that Chamber, with no CCPE goons to aid you, you’re only going to have your own wits with you. I hope you come at this as hungry as you can possibly be. Because just as Buster Gloves found that weak spot in your armor at Solstice, I’m going to expose it for the world to see.”

“Hear me, and hear me well.”

“This is my stage.”

“This is my domain.”

“Over the span of just a few brief months back in the XWF, I’ve been facing some of the best already. 2023 will be my rise to glory.”

“That is going to start on Warfare. No matter what gets thrown in my way, any single one of you five will need to kill me if you intend to defeat me. Because after all I’ve bled to accomplish? After busting my ass in and out, putting in the work, improving as needed and main eventing shows once again? After sacrificing much for this brand we’re taking part of in the final episode of just to try to keep it afloat?”

“And in one of MY home cities?”

“There is no one person who is more ready to win this match than I am.”

“Hear me, and hear me well.”

“I will be the best, or I will be broken.”

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Act CIX: How the King Saved Christmas - Part 1 of 3
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