"See, since my opponent - if you can even fucking call him that - knows jack shit about what good rap is, allow me to use something quality for this promo."

"Fuck you, Caedus. You sister-fucking ."



"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt."

~ Abraham Lincoln

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10 February 2018
Royal Restaurant
Tripoli, Libya

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Finn sighed as the host showed him and Jon to their seats, "Traffic held me up." Sliding out their seats, they plopped down and held their menus up as they thought on what to order. "You'll forgive me for being late though," Finn said, somewhat annoyed.

"Don't mention it," Isabel said, cocking her head and beaming at the pair. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Wish we could say the same," Jon scoffed.

"Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And to think, you were so polite to me over the phone."

"Easy there, fuckos," Finn said while cracking his neck. "We're here for business, even if I dislike her. Speaking of, it's time we actually get down to business. Who the hell are you and how the hell did you get mine and Jon's phone number?"

Isabel's eyes shifted to meet Finn's. "You really want to know what, do you? Sure, you might think you want to know how I was able to initiate contact with you two, so you can shade in your mental image of me. But let's be honest Finn - may I call you Finn or is Mr. Kühn more your speed? If that was the most pressing of your concerns, we wouldn't be sitting here right now. Would we?"

"Gee, I dunno. Would we?"

"I mean, we're not the ones who tracked you down."

Rubbing his temples and trying to block out Jon and the other noises pounding in the background, Finn sighed. "For the record, you can just refer to me as Mr. Kühn. Finn is for my friends. And you're still dodging a question..." Finn continued as his eyes scanned the menu in front of him, "I may know of you as Isabel Mercier, but really. Who are you?"

"You may not have tracked me down, but I wasn't the one who set up this little rendezvous. And for all of my tricks, I certainly didn't put a gun to your head and force you to sit down with me. In all honesty, Mr. Kühn, you can consider me a concerned third party."

"Oh, oh, oh? Let's be real Isabel - can I call you Isabel?"

"You can call me whatever you like, Mr. Kühn."

Finn nodded. "Anyway, you said it yourself. I don't know what goes on in that head of yours. I have zero preconceived notions of your mental state, and if you were able to track down our phone numbers, who knows what would have come next?" Finn shrugged. "A concerned third party? Cute. Then you'll forgive me if I ask your reason for being concerned. Stop dodging the question. Who. The hell. Are you?"

"The wrestling business isn't so friendly, is it? It's cutthroat, draining. Unflinching and uncaring. That's what concerns me. As I told Mr. Wilson here, and tried to tell you over the phone, your stock in the XWF is rising. You're smack dab in the middle of no-man's land: the level of fame where you're prone to be chewed up and spit back out not by the vagrants you stare down in the ring, but by men in suits behind closed doors."

Jon stared daggers at Isabel, trying to hold back the urge to give her a scathing remark. Finn, meanwhile, squinted hard at Isabel's direction. "Elaborate. Why should I choose you specifically to handle my business affairs?"

"Because I approached you. And when you told me, in essence, to fuck off, I went and bugged your friend to go and bug you into setting up this meeting. I know my colleagues, Mr. Kühn, and none of them would have gone to the lengths I went through to make this meeting a reality. Any agent worth hiring would've settled with a 'chance' meeting in a hotel lobby and half-heartedly handed you a business card. Then, had you given them the same response, they would have fucked off, right back to their current stable of talent. See, I know what you really want to ask me: will I screw you over? Am I the shark you need to worry about? To tell you the truth, Mr. Kühn, if my desires were less than legitimate, I surely wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble."

"Hmmmmm..." Finn tapped his fingers together. So Isabel was clearly a talent agent of sorts... she clearly had the drive and the passion to help, Finn most certainly couldn't fault her for that. But still, passion alone makes an effective talent agent not. Finn needed to know more. "What about credentials? Who have you manage-"

"I-I'm sorry," the young, timid waiter who had been standing for a while finally made his presence known. "I'm sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I'm wondering if you're ready to order?"

Finn looked to Isabel, eyebrows raised. "Ladies first," he said flatly.

"Oh no, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head at the waiter.

"And you, sir?" the waiter asked, turning his attention to Finn.

"Water for now, thank you. Jon?"

Jon merely shrugged. "Same," he said. With that, the waiter nodded and headed off.

Finn turned back to Isabel. "Now, if we're going to be serious about entertaining this prospect, I need to know more about you. Who have you managed prior to this? Do you have any noteworthy credentials?"

"Officially? You won't see my name attached to any stars or up-and-comers; I'm just sort of striking out on my own here.The professional wrestling talent representation industry is pretty hegemonic, all things considered. A lot of roads lead back to the same destination and all that. Sure, you occasionally have talent represented by close friends or family but that's usually a disaster waiting to happen. Tangent, sorry. What I'm getting at is, I've spent the last couple of years with the Kingsley Agency. Assistant to the boss man himself. And believe me, his assistants are much more than secretaries. I know what I'm doing."

"Kingsley? We... we're talking about Zane Kingsley, yes?" Finn seems astounded, almost in disbelief.

A brief moment of silence hung in the air before someone spoke. "I call bullshit," Jon declared.

"Yes, Zane Kingsley III. And thank you for your input, Mr. Wilson, but I assure you I'm telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Okay lady, if you're going to continue calling me by fucking Wilson, then this deal of yours can get fu-"

"Jon!" Finn admonished.

"Dude, what the fuck! Why are you entertaining this offer?! She fucking stole our phone numbers! Why would we--?" Finn stopped Jon with a raise of his hand.

"I get it," Finn started, "You're angry, you don't want her to be around, I get that. But if we turn her down without a second thought... what do we do then for business terms?"

"We use our money to hire an effective, proven talent agent? Reminder, your entry level contract was fucking 300K."

"And didn't she say in her texts that she undervalues herself?" That actually caused Jon to pause, forcing himself to think as Finn turned back to Isabel. "I'll be needing an... extensive list of the talents you have experience in and/or talents you are exceptionally capable of doing. And, preferably, getting a contact from the Kingsley Agency or any other prior employer to serve as a reference."

"I knew I should have printed out a copy of my résumé. Well, Mr. Kühn, that's a bit of an open question. I graduated from Stanford with a B.S. in Mathematical and Computational Science. Most of my electives were Econ courses. Working with Zane afforded me insight into search engine optimization, social media marketing, and the art of frustrating the living hell out of people your client doesn't like. In addition, negotiation tactics I suggested helped Zane land his first two non-wrestling related clients, though admittedly neither were exactly household names. If you want a reference..." she beamed, wide-eyed, as she pulled out a black flip-phone.

"I can even call the big man himself right now if you want. It's, what? 10 AM over in Oakland? He should be awake, unless he was out with 'Nox and Arzegotti last night."

"Yes," Finn nodded. "Please do."

"Your wish is my command." She flipped the phone open and dialed the number, before pressing the phone to her ear. After a brief moment, she chirped at whoever was on the other end: "Long night, huh? Yeah, I know. Listen, I got someone here that wants to talk to you."

She smiled at Finn as she handed the phone over.

Finn took the phone and pressed it to his ear as he greeted the voice on the other side. "Hello! You must be Zane Kingsley, yes?"

"This is Finn Kühn speaking. I'm an XWF wrestler and Isabel here wanted to inquire about being my talent agent. I'm just calling to see about a potential recommendation..." Finn nodded as Zane spoke.

"Mm-hmm. I see... 'outstanding recommendation,' huh?" Finn nodded, clearly impressed. "Fair enough, then. Thank you, Zane."

As Finn hung up the phone, he handed the phone back to Isabel, a small smile seen on his face. "I dare say that satisfies the recommendation."

"I thought it would," she responded, taking the phone back and placing it on the table. "Is there anything else you need, or have you made up your mind?"

"Well..." Finn scratched his chin as he was clearly in thought. Jon sighed loudly; he knew what was likely coming at this rate.

"Your recommendation checks out. You seem to be knowledgeable in your field... I'll still need to see that résumé, though at this rate it might be just a formality." Finn clapped his hands together as he decided. "Alright," he said. "This isn't official - yet. I'm going to give you three months on a trial run and see how you do since this will essentially be your first time handling a bigger star by yourself. You'll still be paid, of course, but for now envision this as merely 'under the table.' After three months, if your performance is deemed satisfactory, I'll get an official contract written up and we can discuss an official salary. Deal?" Finn extended his hand.

"You won't regret this," she said, accepting his hand.

"I sincerely hope I don't," Finn chuckled as the two shook hands.

"Well, Jon? Care to welcome her?"

Jon exhaled sharply as he shot glares at the two, though he tried perking up as much as possible. "Let's hope we can get past this rocky start, yeah? Welcome aboard." Jon said.

"Glad to be aboard, Mr. Williams. I'm sure we'll be able to get over the transgressions that brought us here real soon."

"With that said, I dare say we're done here," Finn said as he and Jon brought themselves up. "Stay in Tripoli for a bit, I'll be meaning to talk to you after Warfare," Finn nodded as the two walked off.

"Y'know, they didn't even bring us that water."

"Ugh, tell me about it. I'm leaving them a one-star on Yelp."

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12 April 2005
Outside P.S. 197
Brooklyn, New York

"C'mon, guys, do we really need to go through this?" Finn chuckled nervously as his feet shuffled towards the wall. The three fifth graders in front of him cracked their knuckles menacingly, stretched out their necks, et cetera before speaking.

"We've been through this too many fucking times, Kunt" - Finn winced at the intentional mispronunciation of his name - "You borrow money from us and don't pay us back, you get got."

"Get... got?" Finn asked, scratching his chin. "What does that mean?"

The guy who spoke before cracked his knuckles again, with the other two chuckling in unison as he did that. "I'm gonna fuckin' show you," he said menacingly, perhaps just a faint whisper but it held all the meaning to Finn, who went wide-eyed.

The three fifth-graders and one fourth-grader (Finn) were far away at the side of the building, away from the playground at the back of the school, away from any students who wanted to peep at what was happening and away from any teachers' prying eyes. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone.

The April clouds that hung in the air began to let the water building up inside loose, staying as just a drizzle for now. The droplets began to slowly pour down, hitting the children in the face. The teachers - after a brief moment of talk - decided the rain wasn't too bad enough to bring the kids in. So they stayed out, for now as the kids in front of Finn slowly advanced towards him.

"Seriously, Ty, you can beat me up, but I don't have enough money, I'm too poo-" Finn was cut off by the kid walking to him, apparently named 'Ty.'

"Either you pay us now, or get fucked. Which is it?

Finn gulped audibly; he was trapped, and unless he could get to a teacher in time, he was going to regret life.

So perhaps he had to make his own path.

"Wait!" Finn said, holding up his hands, and the kids stopped in their tracks. A loud, audible gulp could be heard from Finn; this was do or die for him. "I-I can give you a down payment!"

"Let's see it," 'Ty' said coldly.

Finn fished around in his pocket, seemingly looking for something hidden inside all of the pencils and erasers in there. His eyes widen slightly as he finds it, and then throws it on the floor in front of the kids. "There!" Finn exclaims.

Slowly, Ty bends over and picks up the coins buried under rain and a slight amount of mud. Brushing them off, Ty takes a closer look.

"Two dollars isn't enough of a down payme-"

"HAAAAAAAAAA!" Finn cried as he lunged forward, driving his shoulder into Ty and driving forward, forcing him down to the ground, not unlike a football player driving through and shedding a tackle.

"What the fu-" Ty said just before impact.

Finn, for all it's worth, pushed forward for all it's worth, trying to get to the recess area... only to get his legs clipped out from under him from the other fifth, causing him to fall face-first into the DNA.

"Grab him by the limbs. Prevent him from escaping," Ty said as he dragged himself up, shaking out all the mud in his hair. "Now we're gonna make this loser pay."

As the fifth graders held up Finn by the arms, Ty could be seen pulling something out of his pocket... a switchblade.

"Woah, you managed to steal that from your parents? Sweet," one of the kids said with a toothy grin.

"I dunno guys, this seems it a little too far," the other kid said nervously.

Finn, meanwhile, was freaking out at the mere sight of the switchblade. Beads of perspiration began beaming brightly on his forehead, getting mixed in with the rain trickling down from above. Finn tried struggling out, trying to get to safety, only for the kids to tighten their grip, causing Finn to cry out in pain.

Ty gritted his teeth. "Can it, José," Ty said. "Unless you'd like to-" Ty stopped dead in his tracks and paled once he saw a figure standing right at the point the recess area goes to the side of the school. Running away swiftly, Ty cried out in anger.

"AFTER HIM!" Ty yelled as the two dropped Finn, chasing after the new figure.

Finn meanwhile, had long since fainted out of shock, and was unaware of what was occurring as he lied motionless in the rain and mud.

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13 February 2018
El Khan Hotel
Tripoli, Libya

"Caedus... You're fucking pathetic. And these... pathetic attempts to try and trash talk me are only proving it."

"First off... the fucking rapping." Finn grimaces. "What the fuck were those shitty bars? Crap rhymes, no rhythm... I could rap better in my SLEEP if I wanted to. But I'm not, Jim, because you see I know my role as the Apex, and I'm staying in my lane."

"Do you know whose been rapping in this federation longer than you, and I mean MUCH longer? Scully."

"You stole a fucking idea and gimmick..."

"From fucking Scully. Y'know, that guy who you fucking said 'no speaky English so well'? Aside from looking like an asshole, midlife-crisis of Peter Gilmour, you can't even fucking rap properly. One dumbass rapper is more than enough, we don't need a fucking sister fucker trying to muscle in on that territory." Finn shakes his head.

"Speaking of 'no speaky English so good'..."

"You've completely missed my entire fucking point."

"Me pointing out English wasn't my first language was only secondary. Going through and exhausting myself in a match and flubbing one word in the slightest way... That's secondary in terms of what I said. You sounding like a fucking nerd and going through and comparing my English skills to others is the nerdiest thing I've ever seen, and makes you look like an old lady trying to compare authors at a book club for the elderly despite the fact that hood culture is 'in your blood' - and that's a fucking riot on it's own... but that's only the secondary point."

"And you remember what was the main thing I was getting at?"

"Oh, yeah..."

The footage cuts to one of Finn's promos from earlier in the week.

Finn Kühn Said:"I will say though, I find it funny how with just that extra syllable, I had you tripping over yourself trying to correct me, trying to be like 'YOU FUCKED UP.' But, the truth is, Jim?"

"I think you're desperate. You're grasping at straws. Because you know, at least a tiny part of you knows, that perhaps this kid who claims to be a Kaiser might just pull out a win. You're even acknowledging this too, trying to take me as seriously as you can. You know that there's a sliver of a chance that you'll be looking up at the lights."

"Amateurish mind-games, you say?"

"I dunno, literally calling out what you did and you trying to repeat the exact same fucking strategy seems anything BUT amateurish mind-games to me."

"'Insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results.' And Jim, what you're doing is insanity. You trying to be cool and point out flaws in an immigrant's speech multiple times is insanity."

"If this was amateurish, you would have caught yourself and prevented yourself from doing the EXACT FUCKING THING I SAID YOU'D DO."

"And guess what, Jim?"

"I'm not gracing this ludacrious topic with another word."

"So let's move on to other things, yeah?"

"See, I find it funny you're using now to put yourself on a pedestal, say you have some sense of honor and how you're above cashing in your briefcase, and fuck me for ever saying you ever had a free title win handy. But Jim..."

"Remember how you won the Universal Championship in the first place?"

Saturday Night Savage - April 22nd 2017 Results Said:Caedus: Yeah, you know it's true, don't you? Everyone does. Main and I have been friends for months. _MONTHS_! Now he pulls this shit... Fuck Ax3. I should tear this fuckin' Ax3 T I'm wearing to RIBBONS and cram 'em down Chao's throat just as soon as I

C
A
S
H

I
N
!

Before that can register with Gabe or anyone else for that matter, Jim steps forward with a stiff headbutt and cracks Reno in the face!! The fans explode with excitement.

Jim Ross: HE'S CASHED IN! HE'S CASHED IN! CAEDUS HAS CASHED IN!

"Oops."

"'But wait!' I can hear you say as you realize at this fucking moment that the Kaiser was the worst possible option to shittalk. 'I had zero respect for Gabe Reno! I actually somewhat respect Robbie Bourbon!' And I'm glad you're thinking that, because while I'm pulling up old footage..."

"Remember why you left the Motherfuckers in the first place?"

Savage Saturday Night November 18th Results Said:And Robbie? Christ, where's Trax when I need him... Robbie ain't ever stooped to actually physically attacking a man's family far as I'm aware...linguistically in promo sure, most of us do...but he ain't no hero. He ain't no "good guy". He ain't even a person who could or SHOULD be considered anything other than a self-serving smartass who'll dismiss you one day (and keep dismissin' you for months) then on the next, when he actually NEEDS you like the tool he perceives us all to be, will welcome you into his folds. Fold as well, the "flock"/stable definition. Not only that...when the douche finds your usefulness to have expired, he'll drop you from the ranks and kick your ass to the curb...case in point, how he dealt with the legendary James Raven in pursuit of the Uni gold. Quite honestly, Robbie is a prick on or off camera and the fact he wants you all to see him as some kinda Nazi killin', Kings defyin' hero makes me as sick to my stomach as his bovine set of stomachs protest at the sight of anything edible that ain't dick, dependent on microwave cookery, or staining the paper bag and his lap with grease, the fat fuck.

"Do I even need to go on for your Brucette remarks? Hell, I only need to bring up any promo from the week you faced off against her. Fuck you. You don't have any respect for anyone at all, sans your sister-wife. Do we need anymore proof you're just a stupid motherfucker who doesn't care about anyone and that you're the one in this scenario that doesn't know shit about the ongoing scenario."

"You're such a walking fucking contradiction you make Peter Gilmour blush. How you've risen to such heights is beyond me, especially since you seem to be rating hype work - and criticizing me for my usual lack of - over the actual in-ring work. Y'know... what we actually came here to do."

"Fuck everyone who said Caedus is going to mop the floor with me. Fuck everyone who bet money on Caedus beating me. If you voted for Caedus, you're an inept fucking moron that doubts me. I proved it once, I'll be glad to prove it again. Doubting the Kaiser will only prove hazardous for whoever is my opponent."

"When we get into that ring, , I will make you BOW before me, and I will make you say, 'I'm sorry, Kaiser Kühn, for being an utter waste of your time, for being a failed abortion that likes to fuck my sister, and I admit you are the superior wrestler.'"

"Hail to the Kaiser. Hail to your Apex. Hail to your superior."

"Kneel before me, ."

~FIN~