PARADIGM SHIFT XXIV // COLORS
CAN YOU FEEL IT CRUSH YOU? DOES IT SEEM TO BRING THE WORST IN YOU OUT? THERE’S NO RUNNING AWAY FROM THESE THINGS THAT HOLD YOU DOWN. DO THEY COMPLICATE YOU BECAUSE THEY MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE THIS? OF ALL THE COLORS THAT YOU SHINE, THIS IS SURELY NOT YOUR BEST.
CROSSFADE .
••••••
The Officer’s Quarters of West Point were refurbished and remodeled early nineteenth century homes that had been built after the Revolutionary War for the quartermaster and other important members of the Military Academy. The one that he was specifically going to, driving his Speedster up the winding roads leading to the housing complexes on base. The visitors pass on his windshield was something that he didn’t think he’d see again, but this time, he hadn’t really had a choice.
He pulled into the driveway of a colonial-tudor styled home that still looked like it had the original brick that had been restored. It had a large circular driveway, and he had no qualms with parking right in front of the sidewalk leading to the front door. He cut the engine and then stepped out of the vehicle, his full height rising a full three feet from the top of the car. He turned and looked at the house with a smidge of disdain. After his divorce, he never thought that he would be in front of it again.
“Took you long enough,” with her long colorful hair wrapped around her face, Aaron stepped out on the front step. She crossed her arms as Finn rolled his eyes and reminded himself that he needed to play nice today. He would not take any anger out on Aaron in front of her family, especially when it was they who asked him to come here, sending a message through their daughter that they wanted to see him.
It took about thirty seconds for another woman to appear. A demure, white haired woman that had her hair tied up into a bun and looked just as lithe and fit as her daughter stepped out into the fray. She smiled brightly and wrapped her cardigan around herself, rushing up the sidewalk as she did so, wrapping her arms tightly around Finn and kissing him on both cheeks. “Callien!”
He wasn’t going to yell at Aaron’s mother for her misdeed of calling him the wrong name. That’s the only name she would ever call him by, and he couldn’t get her to change it even before.
“Hi,” he smiled and held both of her hands in his own. “How have you been?”
“Oh you know!” She cooed. She was just near seventy years of age, but that didn’t seem to slow her down. “I’m about to head for the train to go into the city and teach my master class! New York City Ballet can’t seem to get rid of me in my old age.”
“Well, if you’d stop showing off for the new recruits and break something, they might retire you.” Aaron replied, snarkily.
Aaron’s mother rolled her eyes, and then waved politely to Finn as she headed for the attached garage. Finn continued up the steps and stepped into the grandiose abode. Chandeliers, mahogany – it was certainly guessed up, regardless of the tight financial ship the family ran. They didn’t speak as they headed down the hallway. Aaron pressed her hand against a panel next to the doorway, and a variety of beeps issued from the area. It allowed her to open the door in front of her, and she ushered Finn inside.
They headed down a set of stairs into the cellar, where metal casing replaced the stone that had once been the foundation. It was bright down here, with fluorescent lights illuminating the room.
The Colonel was a formidable man, seventy years of age, who wore his station with pride. He was not dressed in his colonel’s attire, but was in a tucked in polo and tan slacks. He turned his head, his jawline cutting the space around him blockingly. He peered at Finn as he stepped down into the room after The Colonel’s daughter and huffed slightly.
He was the only man that Finn had ever called “sir” willingly. It was like his appearance and aptitude required it.
“O’Hanlon,” the man said to Finn gruffly.
“Sir.” Finn replied, nodding his head.
The Colonel took a seat at his desk and leveled his hands on the desk, folding them as he did so. He stared at Finn as the younger man sat down across from him, not necessarily even shaken, but still respectfully. Aaron stood next to the desk, refusing to stand behind her father or sit next to Finn.
“Aaron tells me you’re back on your extracurriculars?”
Finn smiled slightly. “With all due respect, sir, you didn’t need Aaron to tell you that.”
The Colonel always had a little bit of respect for Finn and his smart mouth. He leaned forward, nodding slightly. “You’re right. I didn’t. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed, but when it was explained to me why, I did understand. Your brother called Aaron, who called me…you have a task for my team to do, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was and why. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t quite sure why you would have us work in your illegal affairs…we are, after all, a legal operation.”
Finn nodded, and also leaned forward, matching The Colonel’s stance. “It’s simple. I knew you couldn’t resist being a hero. And that you would get it done more effectively and quietly than my brother’s team.”
“Your brother’s team?” He questioned, as if he didn’t believe his words. As if Finn was truly the ringleader and Dickie was just the fall guy.
“My brother’s team. It’s kind of precious cargo too…I wanted to make sure there wasn’t going to be a trace. You can infiltrate better than I can.” Finn continued, nodding slightly. “There’s a kid. In the carnival grounds just west of the city. I know Aaron has already passed you a picture, so you know who you’re looking for.”
The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. “And why the kid? Isn’t that kidnapping? You’re asking us to kidnap a child?”
Finn shook his head. “You know the Romani, Colonel. The only important set of humans in that entire encampment is the men, and the women and children are essentially property. That sect isn’t like the others…they truly believe in the old ways, and I’ve witnessed it myself. I want to make sure the kid is safe.”
“And why this specific child? Why not all of them?”
He hesitated, sighed slightly and then looked away. “The boy is the son of the former Romani leader, Renee. You know, the one that caused so many issues nearly eight years ago? There was a lot of infighting, and the boy’s uncle now runs the entire operation. I want to make sure the kid is safe, because he’s also family.”
“Your family?”
Finn shook his head. “No…but my girlfriend’s family. And there is a lot of chaos going on right now surrounding this, and I’m just trying to put everything together for…safety…purposes.”
The Colonel didn’t buy that response. He narrowed his eyes further, paused, and then scoffed slightly. “You’re trying to cause a problem, aren’t you?”
Finn grinned slightly. He leaned closer into the older man, who he knew was going to say yes regardless, and said to him confidently. “Sir, the only problems that exist are the Romani, and I’m just trying to make it a better world to live in. Just like you.”
Just like him, indeed.
••••••
The fourth of August, twenty-twenty-four…it’s a significant date, you know. It’s been nearly a month since I defeated two…men…who supposedly earned their shots and when they couldn’t rise above, disappeared. A month since I tasted a fight, a month since your World Heavyweight Champion graced the ring to do something other than address the entire company.
I know there are levels and that we have to watch and see which one of the heathens in the lower levels fights their way up through the rest of them to stand against the Champion. Someone hopefully who has earned it…someone who has fought with pride and a shade of lust to face off against me. I don’t make the bucket list, but I do watch and see what’s going on. I could sit here and put a list of people I know I would like to face and prove a point…
Alexander Raven has hit beautifully lately, and could give me a run for my money. I respect Raven and his desire to succeed…but also recognize he’s got a vendetta going.
I’d even face Kris Ryans as long as his vapid blonde doesn’t accompany with her progeny. I respect Ryans and his drive to tie up his own loose ends.
Eddie Lyons could ascend, and he could finally get his chance to face me for our brief, trolling history.
Hell, I’d even face Aiden Reynolds, and that would actually be a match filled with fast-paced fighting, flippy shit. I know, we’ve done it before, and he gave me a fuckin’ run for my money.
The Harris twerp would even be an option, if he wasn’t buried headfirst in with Kevin Carter, J2H and Raven himself.
So here I sit for the fourth week in a row wondering what my future is in this company, and what stands in front of me. Am I going to get someone like Jamie Dean or Sean Parker who are here for a good time, but clearly weren’t a long time? Maybe I’ll get someone like Peter Vaughn, who couldn’t even win on a surprise. Or am I going to actually face someone who can stand across from me and put on a show, something that dazzles the crowd.
It seems I’m always left to discover my own opponent on the last show heading into a Supercard and I have to scramble to figure out what to do. Que sera, sera…and all that jazz. And even in all of that…
I still do what I do, and I still win.
I know a lot of people seem to hate that – the fact that I can continue to push forward and succeed no matter what the situation is. Try to jump me, I succeed. Try to come at me as a legend in these hallowed halls? I succeed. I haven’t lost a match since September of last year, and here I am…still succeeding, still doing my job. Even when I’m flung bullshit on social media, I still succeed. And that literally makes some of you whine to the ends of the earth because I’ve done what I say I will.
I used to put up with it, but at this point, I’m going to call you out on your shit. You’re going to do some cute post of you pointing out how you think your ass looks nice on camera while you attempt to sell your match, and it’s against me? I’m going to call you out on your shit. You’re going to do some snide ass post because the world doesn’t give a fuck about you and you’re trying to stay relevant in this circle? I’m going to call you out on your shit.
I don’t give a fuck at this point because besides the few people I mentioned above and my Wolfslair comrades? You’re worth less than the gum I accidentally stepped on with my shoe, and that is pathetic.
I’m still the World Champion, I am still the World Mixed Tag Team Champion. Over three hundred days, I’ve been a champion in this company, and I have pushed records, I have eliminated competition, and I have done what none of you expected me to do. What some of you continue to not expect me to do, and sit in your feels when I do continue to step into the ring and dominate. The only time I’ve ever been a push over is when I don’t care, when I don’t have drive, and when I could give a shit less about the consequences.
I have eight losses. I won’t deny them, because they are a part of my record and a part of the legacy that I leave in this company. But I also won’t be so quick to sit there and apologize for them. I own that I made mistakes. I don’t sit in the shadows, not taking accountability for my failures. That’s the first step to greater realization, isn’t it? Accountability? Knowing that you can’t change the past, but you can create a better future from your own failures? I believe that I do this every day. That I push for this every day.
And likewise, my opponents have every right to do the very same thing. They can sit there and try to argue that the past doesn’t matter and that this is their time. But the past does matter. It cannot be changed, it cannot be tampered with, but it can set the tone for the future ahead. Especially when there are so many moving parts. I know my future, and what I need to do to get ahead…but do they?
Some people say that overused saying about how the third time something is attempted is the one that’s going to put them over. The idiom was created by the British some…god, who the fuck knows, basically because they failed miserably twice and put hope into thinking that the people around them were going to get lackadaisical and fuck themselves over. I’ve always disliked the thought that people assume that others are going to become complacent because something has stayed the same way for a designated amount of time.
Unsurprisingly, we’re right there right now. See, for some reason, Miles and Alexandra seem to think that the third time they get to face for this championship is going to be their lucky shot. That they’re going to turn the tide and change this for the better. That’s constantly what I see.
In fact, it’s what Alexandra seems to think. You see, prior to defeating Eiley last week – been there, done that – not only did she have some celebratory words to share, she quite literally also sat there and said she and her partner kicked ass. Of course, she didn’t clarify that it was the Barnharts, and that most sexually transmitted diseases also have kicked their ass, but you know…que sera sera.
Add the whole social media interactions and Calaway seems to think that they’re prepared to take on myself and Kayla. You know, forgetting the whole…failure to capture not once, but twice. In part, I think that may be simply because no one can figure out how Kay and I function. When this first started, we were very vocal about the fact that even if we didn’t like one another, we knew how to function on a professional level. We knew how the other worked, we were able to come together as tag partners.
Now? No, Alexandra, we’re not just thick as thieves, as you stated the last time you attempted to wrest these titles from our hands. We’re a seamless unit, a strong team that pushes forward together, that works efficiently to bring down our competitors. I don’t know how many times people have come at us saying all kinds of bullshit, trying to divide us, trying to separate our successes. Oh, Kayla’s done more, or Finn’s pushed harder. We’ve both heard it all. We’re selfish. We’re unable to communicate. We’re not as good as we say we are. This time is no longer our time and we shouldn’t be champions because the situation is boring. All of it. And yet, here we still stand. Nearly a year, the longest reign, the record-holding reign, and about to face our seventh defense. And that seventh one? The one filled with all the luck? Is wasted on you and Miles.
I don’t know how many times you’ve sat there and argued that the battle is in your mind and your will. Certainly, but that’s not the only thing that matters. Just because we speak and we belittle one another in this format doesn’t mean it’s left up to chance. It’s also the fact that when we’re in that ring, we need to know what the other person is thinking so that we can succeed. You and Miles might be great friends, but you’re certainly not as attuned as Kayla and I, and you’re definitely not invincible.
And you’re certainly not a better wrestler than Kayla. The World Bombshell Champion, not to mention a multi-time World champion in places that were looked at with respect, rather than a pile of vomit on someone’s shoes when it’s mentioned. And your reign at PWS: Apex means nothing because Cleo Phillips bested you, and here you are…contesting for these championships.
Wasn’t the last time we faced off when you were facing her as well? That was a rough week for you, wasn’t it? A large bit of swing and miss. Man, I hate to think you’re going to fail again.
I don’t know if you know about me, Calaway, but I don’t hold back punches. I will dig. And I will dig into your very heart and ribs because I don’t have respect for you.
But you’re a blip on the horizon, to be honest. My real focus, I guess, should be on Miles.
Oh Miles.
You’re damn correct that we’ve held these titles with pride. The last time you came at us, Miles, you told us to put up or shut up in the same breath that you said you had our backs against people who sat there and said we weren’t doing enough.
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I’m sorry, hold on, that’s a lot of silence. Seven times, now, Miles. Seven. Three times longer than the previous longest record of defenses, should this one go through. Meanwhile, it’s while we’re also defending the World Championships of this company. So if anyone is going to sit there and tell us that we’re not doing things enough, it’s not going to be your little shit ass. You, who defended your Internet Championship for one hundred and eighty-nine days against the likes of Bill Barnhart, a weakened Oliver Zahn who didn’t give a fuck about anything, Justin Smith, and then lost it to a fucking janitor.
Watching what you did to earn this championship shot against Bill was disgusting, and to be perfectly honest, less than what it should have been. I’m not going to sit here and tell anyone that they’re a weak link, because no one is. When you’re a team, you both have the caliber to do well and succeed as a team. There is no you or her. You’re a functional pair that can either do great things or annihilate one another’s chances at success. I’m not impressed, Miles.
I’m not interested in you.
I’m bored that we’re doing this again.
September 2023 was the one day that you defeated me on my return, but have you ever considered I threw it just to fuck with Austin? That result is never going to happen again, because you, my friend, get in your own head. You think you push yourself to the ultimate level but it’s never biting enough, it’s never proving enough, it’s never what it needs to be to get on my caliber. If you can’t defeat Peter Vaughn, you have no chance of getting through me, and I’m sorry to say that even with her, you don’t have a chance.
You are not a battle like any other. You’re not a fight that we’ve never had and that we’re going to have to push ourselves to greatness.
You’re a tried and done match that we’ve had before that is going to have the same result. Kayla and I are on another echelon – Calaway and you? Leftover chicken wings that don’t taste the same on the third warm up.
And you know how much I like chicken wings. Almost as much as Chipotle.
When the Wolves defeat you two once more, I would suggest maybe focusing on your own personal careers instead of trying to come after Kayla and I. Because whoever it was that said that doing the same thing over and over for the same result is insanity. I would hate to fifty-one-fifty you.
But I can find the straightjacket if you like.
••••••
It was a quiet night. Everyone had left, and honestly, Finn was okay with that. For the first time in what seemed like eons, he was left alone in his penthouse. There were no Australian-American couple with a baby in the second half of the apartment, and his little brother wasn’t sitting on his couch trying to figure out ways to get out of his newfound career. As much as he missed her, he was happy that Kayla had gotten out of the house and was participating whatever the fuck “girl’s night” meant. He knew she was a closet case if she wanted to be, and he didn’t want her to be dependent on him for friendship either.
He had season one of Modern Family on, simply because it was decent background noise as he laid on the leather sectional that he was certain he hadn’t bought but didn’t mind its presence. For once, he wasn’t clothed in the skinniest jeans known to man – instead, he had his plaid (yes, plaid) pajama pants on and, because it was fucking hot out still, no shirt. He scrolled on his phone to shitty little videos and scratched at his forehead as the demonic Frenchie that Kallie had bought because she needed a “therapy animal” sat nearly on top of his head. Clyde, she’d named it, and it loved Finn more than anyone in the entire household.
As long as it wasn’t the fucking wombat.
It was only ten-thirty when he heard the camera system alarm, and then the front door slam open. He stared at the phone for a moment perplexed, and then listened as three pairs of heels and a pair of converse smacked against the floor, including a clunking pair of skater shoes as well. Purses were thrown on the counter, and he got a glimpse of Kayla’s raven hair flowing as she b-lined for her own room.
He turned his head and looked curiously at the others. Amber sighed as she sat down at the counter and Tasmin appeared a little worried. Kallie did too, and she started heading for Kayla’s room.
“I wouldn’t. She’s in a mood.” Amber told her.
That didn’t stop the blonde, who just decided to stand next to her door, pressing her hand up to it and setting her ear against it. “Kay?” Kallie asked, but there was no response.
Finn swung his legs off of the sofa and stood up, walking around the sofa and tossing his phone onto the couch. He shuffled, his legs stiff from being on the couch too long, into the kitchen where everyone had housed themselves – except Aiden, who’d disappeared into his own side of the apartment. Tasmin crossed her arms and looked at Amber. Amber seemed mildly stoic, but still concerned.
“What happened?”
Amber looked at him with a suspicious expression, as if she didn’t quite trust him yet. And maybe she didn’t, but Finn didn’t particularly care. It wasn’t like Amber was around often enough to help Kayla make decisions, and she was a big girl – she could make whatever the fuck decisions with her life that she wanted. Tasmin, though, was the one that answered.
“I’m not really sure,” she piped in, “she was dancing and then like…she hightailed it out of the place.” She looked at Amber again. “Amber was first out, and Kallie and I went to grab Aiden and we weren’t out until after. But she was visibly like…upset.”
Finn looked at Amber again and they simply stared at one another. There was something more. Something more that Tasmin didn’t know, and that Amber wasn’t about to divulge. He didn’t want to wait for her to decide to open her mouth, and honestly, he wasn’t sure she’d get the truth from her anyway. So instead, he nodded to Tasmin in thanks, and then left the kitchen, heading for the hallway to their rooms. He stood next to Kallie for a second, silently. When she realized he was there, she made an “eep” sound, and then scattered off to the kitchen with everyone else.
He set a hand on the doorknob, testing it. It wasn’t locked, but he wasn’t going to open it. “Kayla?” He asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” she replied. But he heard it, the defensiveness in her tone. He looked up at the wall with a semi-annoyed expression, but let that fade as he quietly opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it after him with just as much quiet. “Really.”
Kayla was seated on her bed, and she hadn’t bothered to change out of her clothes or anything. She seemingly had just been staring at the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. He took steps towards her, and then sat down on the bed next to her. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. He didn’t really have to. He planted his feet on the floor and then folded his hands in front of him.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fine,” Finn replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You don’t need to talk about it. I’m just here.”
Kayla turned her head quite slowly, her eyebrows furrowing a little in confusion. Like she wasn’t used to anyone just staying in space unless they wanted something from her. She nodded slightly, looking back at the wall. Slowly, but surely, she dropped her defensive stance and let her arms drop to rest on her legs.
They sat like this for some time. He knew Kallie was putting Amber and Tasmin in rooms, concerned about them getting home at a late hour, and he didn’t mind. It might be good for Kayla’s sisters to see her in the morning. He could hear them fighting Kallie a little bit, but the little blonde was tenacious and wouldn’t let that happen.
Eventually, Kayla leaned over into him, but didn’t look at him. Finn raised an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. At that point, she melted slightly and wrapped her other arm around his waist. “You’re a furnace…” she muttered. He shrugged again, and then wrapped both his arms around her.
After some time like this, Finn leaned back and set his head on one of Kayla’s pillows, adjusting slightly so that he could lay comfortably on his back. Kayla kicked off her shoes and then laid down next to him, pressing her face to his shoulder and letting him comfort her. He grabbed at the throw that was sliding off the bed and threw it over her and his legs. She grumbled slightly, but nevertheless kept herself attached to him. Together, they laid in silence in the dark room, the only lights coming from the cars and business of the lively city outside. Central Park never slept, and neither did New York.
He let his eyes close for a moment. It was then that Kayla shifted slightly – uncomfortably – and then pressed her forehead into his neck, tucking herself into him more. “I saw Jace…” she said, trailing off.
Finn’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t move, he didn’t leap to attack. He didn’t say anything. His mind, however, went a million miles a minute. Jace hadn’t been full of shit then – he was stalking Kayla, and that wasn’t going to last long if he had anything to say about it. He’d told Jace to fuck off and leave her be, and now? Now, he was harassing her. Finn wasn’t about to have that, and he wasn’t about to have her feeling any kind of negative way. Not when he could fix it.
Fix it.
He knew what that meant. In an instant, he could snuff Jace Pleasant’s life out. He’d done it how many times before for Kei? It wasn’t something he was proud of, and he’d told himself he was done with that life. He told Dickie he was done with that life, and what if Kayla actually found out what he was like prior to the person he was now? Finn didn’t want to lose her because she was just as afraid of him as she was the dickhead. Oh, he didn’t know exactly why she feared Jace – but he could see it when she talked about him, when she mentioned his name. She didn’t shiver and shake, but it was moments like these that told him exactly what had happened prior to her wrestling rise.
Finn hugged her tighter, and pressed his lips to her forehead softly.
He didn’t want to show those colors again. He didn’t want to be bathed in red and black, a constant reminder that his hands were responsible for extinguishment. They were not his best colors…but perhaps they were the ones that would handle this the best.
Fixing it could be the only way anything would ever be fine again.
