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Finn Kühn · (08-09-2017)

"Tears come from the heart and not from the brain."

~ Leonardo Da Vinci

Unknown Date
Unknown Location

"So," the therapist said, cross-legged, tapping his pen on his clipboard. "Tell me what makes you tick."

Finn Kühn, the protagonist of this story, laid back on the plush couch, arms crossed, brow furrowed. "Wh- what makes me tick?" The therapist nodded in response. "Well..."

Finn scratched his chin; what made him tick? While considering his answer, Finn studied the man. His pale skin with black, soulless eyes was perhaps only made creepier by the haggard wrinkles and crow's-feet. His graying hair was balding, put into a widow's peak. But Finn was unable to take his attention off of those soulless eyes, perhaps trying to bore their way into Finn's soul.

Finn shuddered, then tried to study the room. It was lavishly decorated, the walls painted a beige color which was complemented by the chestnut colored baseboards. Multiple paintings adorned the walls, from fruit paintings to famous people such as Einstein, Shakespeare and Twain. A small clock was placed on top of the nearby oak door, softly ticking by. Finn's perception of time was cloudy; he wasn't able to tell the time currently, but that was unimportant as he could see it moving. He also noticed a lamp out of the corner of his eye; the red lampshade covering the fluorescent lighting seemed radiant.

"I guess what makes me tick..." Finn responded, "...Being considered to have fallen into that pit hole known as mediocrity. I always consider myself a winner, no matter what gets in my way. And just being told I'm not good enough..." Finn shrugged. "It's probably the most disheartening thing. That goes against everything I am."

The therapist smiled, but it wasn't a warm smile at all. It was a smile that seemed cold, lacking any feeling, and with his eyes Finn felt increasingly on edge. "I don't think that's it at all," he whispered.

"I-I don't know what you're--"

"You can't beat me."

Finn's head darted behind him, the small voice disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. "Did you hear that? It almost sounded like... Jack Ca--"

"Answer the question, Finn," the therapist responded.

"You didn't hear that?!" Finn exclaimed as he turned his head around. "B-but--"

"Answer. The question."

Finn became nervous. Sweat drops began to slowly pour out from his foreheads; his throat became dry and raspy. Trying to find some sort of comfort, Finn tried to study the pictures. However, they were gone. Ripped from the walls, as if they weren't there to begin with. Finn turned his attention to the lamp, only to find it turned upside down, standing on a corner almost as if the dimensions of it became inverted. Finn turned his attention to the clock, only to find that it stood still.

Not a single second had passed.

Finn cleared his throat though, he supposed he would have to play along with the therapist here.

"Alright, what makes me tick is getting less respect than I deserve. I know what people would think if they heard that - me, a rookie with a 50/50 record, demanding respect?! But what they don't recognize is that win or lose, I go out there and I put on a better performance than half those nitwits combined. Sure, I may have lost to Neville Sinclair and Jack Cain narrowly, but they remember the name 'Finn Kühn.' Cain knows if he didn't swing blindly with that Knockout Punch at that second and get lucky, I would have hit that Moonsault and go on to win the match. Sinclair knows if he didn't get his foot on the ropes narrowly following that Knife in the Back, I'd be the XWF's new Television Champion. Really, when I said I was the best thing in this federation, it's almost like these

expected anything differe-"

"You should be downright embarrassed."

The tiny whisper interrupted Finn again, breathing down the back of his neck before disappearing once more. Finn jerked his head behind only to see, again, nothing.

Once he was sure he saw nothing, Finn turned to face the therapist once more asking, "Please tell me you heard that voice that time? I could have sworn I heard Neville Sinclair--"

"Tut, tut, tut." The therapist almost seemed disappointed as he scribbled something down on his clipboard while muttering, "Hears voices in his head..."

"I'm not hearing voices in my head!" Finn exclaims, clearly flabbergasted with the situation in front of him. "Anyway, I told you what ticks me off. Happy now?"

Once more, the therapist shook his head again. "No, that's not it either. Sure, you crave to be the best and to be considered one of the best, but not being part of that elite group doesn't tick you off, it drives you to push yourself further until you are a member of that upper echelon. It doesn't make you tick."

Finn leans back and crosses his arms once more, clearly pissed. "Fine then, therapist-who-supposedly-knows-everything-about-me. Please, inform me on what you think makes me tick."

The therapist smiled again; this time an evil, sadistic toothy grin. His teeth bared in the light as if they were vampire fangs. The mere sight of them sent Finn onto high alert. "What makes you tick is being reminded about... him."

"Him?" Finn asked. Suddenly, a cold breeze slipped into the room from seemingly nowhere. Finn could feel goosebumps on the back of his neck, his hairs beginning to stand on end. "You don't mean--"

"There's only one person I'm talking about, Finn. You only killed one person, after all." The therapist's eyes flashed.

"Jason."

"Cooper."

As soon as the name exited the therapist's mouth, Finn immediately felt like someone punched him in the gut as his breath immediately puffed out of his body. His skin paled instantly. The sweat drops from before started to make their mark again, this time much more radically as Finn had to dab at his forehead with his sleeve. Finn's throat felt like parchment paper.

"You- you're wro--"

"Am I wrong, Finn?" the therapist asked with his eyebrow raised. "Am I truly wrong? You remember that day in Brooklyn especially well. After all, no matter how hard you tried to lock the memory inside your head, it manages to resurface."

"Do you remember your promos building to your match with Herjavech, that inept moron that got himself fired? I remember them quite well. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about, it's what happened before your friend Jon Williams caught your attention. He caught your attention multiple times, distracting, whether it be causing you to get into a car crash, helping you escape from a fucking hospital or getting you to train with washed-up nobodies. Really, it's a wonder the police haven't found you yet. But you and I both remember what happened."

Finn's pupils began to dilate out of fear. He wanted to get up and escape this place, this... bizarro land. But no, Finn's bones were locked, rigid. No matter how much he wanted to escape this hell, he was unable to move. His throat, beginning to have the consistency of sandpaper, refused to let him talk.

"Those punches hitting his bare flesh, slowing taking away what little life he had left. Piece by piece."

As if on cue, the sound of fist against flesh made themself known.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"YOU HAD A BROTHERHOOD! AND YOU SOILED IT! SOILED IT! YOU RUINED HIS LIFE!"

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

With each thump, Finn could feel his heartbeat racing faster and faster. The therapist now was off his chair, in front of Finn as he yelled as his face.

"BUT THAT WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, WASN'T IT?! YOU STOLE THE SPOTLIGHT FROM HIM, AND TO PUT THE ICING ON THE CAKE, YOU KILLED HIM! BARE-HANDED! YOU, HIM AND JON WERE THE BEST OF FRIENDS! AND YOU SPAT ON THAT FRIENDSHIP!"

"You're nothing but a joke."

"Nobody in this federation cares about you."

Finn could hear them. Cain. Sinclair. Their voices trailing around his head. Teasing him. Tantalizing him with opportunities with greatness. But he wasn't good enough. Not a good enough wrestler. Not a good enough friend.

"That- that's not true..." Finn managed to choke out.

"SPARE ME THE LIES, FINN!" the therapist screamed at the top of his lungs. "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A MURDERER! A COWARD! A SNAKE! HOW YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF IS BEYOND ME!"

The therapist reached into his belt, revealing a pointy knife. The silver glimmered in the light from the lamp as he waved it in front of Finn's face. "An eye for an eye, they say," he whispered. "It's time to repay the debt."

As soon as the knife began to hit flesh, Finn Kühn woke up screaming.

August 7th, 2017
Mansion of Carter Williams
Hollywood, CA

"GAH!" Finn shouted as he woke up. A cold sweat was brimming from all and every pore on his body. His throat was just as parched as it was in the dream.

After pinching himself, trying to make sure he wasn't locked in another nightmare, Finn forced himself out of his bed, through the lavish guest room and into the hall towards the kitchen.

Finn tried to minimize the sound from his feet on the wooden floor. No doubt Jon was quietly trying to sleep, and Finn wasn't in the waking mood. With every step Finn took, he could vividly remember the therapist's voice shouting in his face.

"MURDERER! COWARD! SNAKE!"

Finn shook his head while gritting his teeth, desperate to lock that nightmare in a part of his brain that was never accessed. Of course, sometimes that was met with minimal success, considering what happened that fateful day still flashed in his mind.

As Finn made it into the kitchen, he made a bee-line for the fridge, desperate to get some water. If Finn had any moisture left, he'd be salivating at the thought of pure water crawling down the throat. Swinging the door open, he grabbed the pitcher. However, as soon as he closed the door, a familiar voice spoke...

"Hey."

"GAH!" Finn shouted once more, nearly ready to drop the water pitcher before he caught himself. "Oh, it's you, Jon. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Heard you thrashing about in your sleep. Gave me quite a fright, I can promise you that," Jon chuckled.

Immediately, Finn felt a pit of guilt in his gut. Yet another friend was punished once more due to his selfishness. Finn set the water pitcher down as he fished for a glass.

"Finn? What's wrong?" Jon asked inquisitively, brow scrunched up.

"It's nothing. Was just thinking of my losses so far. Sorry to wake you up, by the way," Finn added. He could only reveal a half-truth currently. He didn't want Jon to get caught up in this tangled web.

"Nah, don't be sorry. Had insomnia anyway, so I decided to browse the XWF site for a bit."

"Find anything new?" Finn asked as the water swiftly trailed out from the pitcher and into the glass.

"Only your match for the King of the Ring pay-per-view." Jon continued as Finn turned around, saying, "Cadryn Tiberius. Travis McCoy. Dolly Waters. Elimination match that determines the #1 Contender to the Xtreme Championship."

As Finn's eyes swelled to the size of baseballs, Jon added, "Yeah, I know. My reaction too. I guess Lane saw something in you following that match with Sinclair or something. Anyway, it looks like Cadryn spoke."

"Did he now? Well, looks like I'll have to sneak a peek and respond."

Jon shrugged. "He didn't mention you much really, just focused on Dolly for the most part. Though, if you want, we can still see what he has to say."

"Y'know, it's truly refreshing to see when a company recognizes true talent. People in federations worldwide get stepped on. The higher-ups refuse to recognize their talent, instead going with whoever their marketing team recognizes as 'the most marketable.' Truly, sickening."

"So, imagine my mood when I find out that I, the Young Lion, the greatest thing to happen to this federation and future Universal Champion, have had my talent, work ethic and abilities on the mic recognized when I see that my name is across that of Cadryn Tiberius, Travis McCoy, and--" Finn shudders-- "Dolly Waters... for a chance to become the next Xtreme Champion. Now, when I stepped into this company, this is what I expected. I expected to be treated like a member of the upper echelon, because I AM a member of the elite. I'm the rising star. I'm the Young Lion. In my pinky alone I have more ability than my so-called 'opponents.' Speaking of..."

"Cadryn Tiberius. You have brought up something very important- we haven't had the pleasaure of introducing ourselves." Finn smiles. "So, hello! My name is Finn Kühn, your opponent at King of the Ring, future main eventer, future Universal Champion- and perhaps in the more immediate future- future Xtreme Championship."

"I will congratulate you on getting the most basic, the most essential detail correct: Yes, I am a very talented wrestler. More talented than you could ever be. Did you think my performances again Herjavech and Valerius, Cain and Sinclair was all that I had up my sleeve?" Finn laughs. "No, no, no, Tiberius. That was just the tip of the iceberg in terms of what I'm capable of. If you truly claim you're the Essence of Excellence, you have yet to truly see me in action. Let me put this in layman's terms in case you aren't getting the full picture:"

Finn clears his throat, before bending over so this way his face is right in front of the camera.

"None.

Of.

You.

Can.

Beat.

Me."

"Seriously, this is too easy. Lane probably gave me the easiest match on this card, bar none. People think scrubs like you, McCoy and especially Waters have a chance? No, no, no, no. You people are a speed bump. A slight roadblock standing in my way of greatness, and I'm going to go full speed ahead at that roadblock, soar through the air and land on top of Trax- I'm sorry, Mister fucking Killjoy- and take that Xtreme Champion."

"Now, Dolly Waters."

Suddenly, Finn's face turns incredibly angry, his brow's arched.

"IS LANE FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!"

"A child?! You people expect me to hit a child?! That's a lawsuit waiting to happen! I'm not looking to go to jail anytime soon! Dolly, if you had half a brain in there, you'd go crawl back to your daddy and ask him to put you back in kindergarten where you belong."

"In all honesty, I have to know here: what's the rules on child abuse for this? Because, I know this is a sanctioned competition and everything, but if even laying a finger on this girl gets the cops called, she honestly needs to get the fuck out of here since when she first debuted. Like I said Dolly, just stay away. This is a competition for grown adults. Go to school. Get a life. Do something with yourself, because I don't want a child's blood on my hands."

"Now, Travis McCoy. This, this has to be a fucking joke. What the hell have you done? Lose a few matches since your return? Stab your fucking eye out? Did you want to be like a pirate or some shit just so you can have an excuse to wear an eye patch?!"

"You've offered nothing of note since your return. You talk hot air yet you can't back up a single part of it unlike me. I'm just going to keep this short and sweet for now, since I know jack shit about you. Just stay home. Be like Dolly in this situation. Get some fucking help, man. You're a wreck. A disgrace to our sport. If you have any self-respect, you'll watch as I go on to win at King of the Ring, and then stand over Trax with the Xtreme Championship in hand."

"Right, I might as well head to bed now," Finn yawned as traces of sunlight began to peek through the house. Morning came, and an intense fatigue began to come over the duo.

"I'm with you on that one, I'm ready to sleep the day away until we pick up Uncle Carter later today, we gotta thank him for letting us stay here and all."

"Agree-"

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

The two looked each other in the eyes with similar thoughts: Who the hell was here at this time of day?

Hesitantly, Jon walked to the door, slowly reaching out and turning the handle. Instantly, four police officers rushed into the door, knocking down Jon. One of the officers stop and began to handcuff Jon, saying, "Jon Williams, you are hearby under arrest for the assault and battery of--"

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" Finn shouted, however he too was immediately tackled by another officer.

"Did you think we wouldn't find you eventually following your little stint at the hospital a couple weeks back? Not to mention, we know your little secret, murderer." the officer who tackled Finn said.

Jon was shocked. "What are you guys talking abo--" However a swift boot to the face from Jon's captor quickly quieted him.

"JON!" Finn shouted.

One of the two remaining officers-- the leader from the looks of things-- told the last remaining police officer, "Spread out and look for anyone else here." The officer saluted, then quickly ran off. Following that excahnge, the leader turned his attention to Finn, his expression stern. "Finn Kühn, you are hearby under arrest for the murder of Jason Cooper, as well as the assault and battery of..."

Finn stopped breathing as soon as he heard that name.

He knew this was it.

End of the line.

~FIN~

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