Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Chris Chaos · (03-14-2017)

OOC: I HAVE BEEN IN 5 DIFFERENT STATES AND ON 6 DIFFERENT PLANES IN 24 HOURS. BEEN A CRAZY WEEK. I WANTED TO GET AT LEAST ONE MORE UP, THOUGH. I OWE THAT TO YA.

[Image: lxbrUB3.jpg]

A Day In The Life

The camera crews were hired for this special edition mini-documentary. Many people had written in and were curious as to exactly what a day in the life of the Universal Champion was like, so XWF decided to make a bit of a profit off of it by televising it.

The camera crews would follow Chris Jackson, aka Chris Chaos, for a full day. From wake-up to lay-down they would document it all. XWF TV had the exclusive. This particular day was the last day before he and Jenny would board a plane headed for Europe. This day would chronicle Chris not just as a wrestler but as an every day resident of Clearwater Beach, Florida.

The camera's turned on with a little red light in the corner and a white date next to it.

Mon March 13th, 2017. 4:42 am.

There was ruffling in the bed, and the sheets began to move. A foot came down and touched the carpet, followed by another. It was still dark, with the lights of the beach-city peeking through the slim-material curtains. Chris got out of bed. Shirtless with only boxers. He pays the camera's no mind as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. Water can be heard as the shower runs. Steam leaks out from under the door.

After about 15 minutes, the muffled water sound stops. There is some shuffling inside before the doorknob turns down and Chris walks out wearing only a towel.

His words were a bit of a mumble. "If you want a shot at this, you'd better apply for a job at HBO.....this is stuff that cable cant handle big boy." He winks at the camera man and pats his shoulder. All the camera gets is his buttox as he changes into gym shorts, pulling on boxers before hand, and throwing on a tank top.

Ruffling his hair for a bit, he pops in some headphones and walks to the fridge. He pulls out a liter bottle of water. Evian, of course.

The camera's follow him out of the front door and into a fancy hallway. The big silver doors of the elevator sit in front of him, as he takes the first gulp of his water.

Ding.

The cameras follow him in as he gets into the elevator and hits the L button, for Lobby. Singing along to himself under his breath, he seems to pay the cameras no mind.

He got into the lobby and walked through the big double doors into the parking garage. Parked there was a vespa with the XWF logo. They would need it, and they were informed of such before hand. Just as he got out of the parking garage and into the warm florida air (it was still dark at 5:24 am), he began to jog. He jogged past the gate leading into his complex. He jogged up Mandalay Avenue and over the traffic circle which, at this time, was widley unused but would soon be flooded with tourists once the rich Florida sun came up.

He jogged up the cross island bridge and up onto the main bridge. As he ran, the little motor of the Vespa could be heard as the camera shook a little. The sky was a dim light coming over the horizon. By the time he got up into the city of Clearwater, and off the island, it was 6:15 am. He ran up past the courthouse, past the Oaks Hotel (the home of Scientology---John Travolta owned the entire top floor. Tom Cruise was there also). He ran past the Fifth Third Bank building and the Circle K gas station. The city of Clearwater was much different than the beach. Overgrown weeds and graffiti began to show up. One level strip malls with outdoor laundry mats and run down auto body shops.

The Vepsa continued to hum along.

As Chris continued to jog, he had yet to slow down, a sheen of sweat came over him as he passed Jeff's Jeep Yard. That was his turnaround point. He had run 10 miles into Clearwater.

As he began to make his turn, he pressed a button on his head set. It was his bluetooth to answer his phone.

In a huff he answered "huh....yeah Bruce....I am heading back now....huh huh....Tell Jenny to make my food ready".

As he would run, and more people were on the road, people began to recognize him. He was not just the XWF's champion, he was the bay area's champion. Horns would blare, people would yell out the windows, and children would wave. He was a local celebrity. He was, even though he hated the word, a hero. If he wasn't a hero, he was their hero. That was good enough for him. At least for the time being.

As he ran back down the bridge he could see the sun coming up over the Gulf. It was a beautiful site, truly. Not as beautiful him holding the title belt, but a beautiful one nonetheless. The Vespa hummed as his feet pounded the pavement.

Stopping briefly to let cars pass an intersection, he started to slow down when he got onto Mandalay Ave. There were more people out now. The tourists who were visiting America's Number 1 Beach were now starting to pull themselves out of bed. He didn't want to knock any pedestrians over. He decided to take the back alley road instead of the main drag. He passed Cooters Restaurant who was known for their endless Stone Crab leg special. He passed the back end of the retail strip mall and by the Rasta store where the owner sold weed out of the back. When he got inside his gated community, Bruce waved from the tenth floor balcony. Chris looked up and grinned. The old man had a drink in his hand. Of course.

Ding.

The elevator rang again and he got in. He was covered in sweat now, making the previous shower seem like a waste.

When he reached 1003, he could smell the bacon and could hear the sizzle. Jenny was in a bikini bottom and a bathing suit cover top cooking the breakfast meal over the luxury stove.

Chris took another trip into the bathroom and the water spout sounded off again. The XWF camera shut off until he was done.

Chris soon exited the bathroom and the cameras turned back on. He put on a shirt that said CHAOTIC CHAMPION on the front and "Success Is The Best Revenge" on the back. Black, with white writing.

He poured purified grapefuit juice into a class and pulled out a chair. Jenny brought a pate over. Bruce swirled the ice cubes in his glass. Jenny sat down also.

.....and then, they ate.

The camera's followed him afterwards to the weight room. They watched him go through his routine. 3 sets of ten, maxed out. Bench, curls, triceps, legs. After an intense workout he hit the sauna.

It wasn't until later in the day, as Chris sat in the hottub with Bruce, that he muttered another word.

Puffing on a cigar, both he and Bruce were, he began to spill a bit of his heart---if he had one left.

"I hate him, Bruce. I really do. I don't think I have ever hated someone in this industry as I much as I hate Gabe Reno. He has pushed my buttons. He has gotten to me. Has he broken me? No way, but he has certainly bent me. Now I have Mr. Tidbits in an extreme rules match, only 1 of 2 matches before I meet Gabe in the ring. I read the tabloids. I see the social media posts. A lot of people think that this derranged pyschopath can beat me. Does that get to me? No. But I feel like I am just so consumed with hate---"

He stops to take a puff, the little orange light in the front flickered as more of the paper wrap burned away.

"---and that is something that is propelling me forward. As far as I am concerned, Tidbits is Reno at Warfare. All of the frustration, rage and turmoil he caused me---all the chair shots, led pipe shots, baseball bats. All of it. It is welling up in my ife never before. It is pushing me harder. To run further, lift more, train harder. I don't want to take the cheap way out like he has on numerous occasions. I want to be better all around. And I know I can be. I have proven it once.

Bruce looked at Chris, and took a puff of his. "You are the man. I have been by your side since you were in college. I have seen every match you have ever had. I know what you can do, and I know who you are. I know what you are capable of when you put your mind to it. I know how you are when you feel hatred and rage. I was there when you were screwed over by Scott Rage. I was there when your partner turned his back on you. I was there when you were at rock bottom. Now you are on the top looking down. This is YOUR war to win, but you cannot win a war without winning a few battles. Consider this just another battle. Tidbits is Iwo Jima......Reno is the full scale invasion of Japan. You need to drop the bomb before it gets out of control.

He got out of the hot tub and ashed his cigar. "You know what Bruce. You are right. You've never been more right........"

He walked away as Bruce laid back with a smile. He knew that tone in Chris's voice. It was going to be a long night in Croatia for Mr. Tidbits, or Father Slathe, or whoever the fuck he REALLY was.

[Image: fq4LRhl.png]

"Mr. Tidbits. The man who is controlled by some being nobody can see but him. Sounds like the script from a bad Halloween movie. Your entire career is a bad movie. I actually kind of feel bad that you have to fly all the way to the former Soviet Union just to get eviscerated by the world's best. And listening to your previous promos, are you even allowed on a plane? Your mental health can't be adequate. You are so far gone, I am surprised you are even eligible to be gainfully employed. You should be the road crew, Tidbits, not the "talent". Because you have none.

This is a match, extreme rules, where guys like you actually have a small percentage chance against guys like me. Because you can use weapons, the x-factor. You can use those to hide the fact that in a normal match you can't hang with me. But, I can also use them.....I can use them to put you in a hospital bed. I have no heart, no soul, no morals. I don't care who I hurt. I am on a mission, a warpath, a collision course with Reno. Do you really think I am going to let him gain momentum by overlooking you? I am laser focused. I am more focused now than I have ever been. I have you in my cross hairs, and my finger is on the trigger.

I am not going to get sucked into a war of words with you. I am not going to go back and forth with you. That is what Gabe Reno would want. You are probably recording another promo as we speak, getting ready to release it to your goth-emo-self-harming fan-base. That is fine. I have no time to go back and forth. I have said what I need to say for the most part. I have nothing to say to you. If you prove yourself in the ring....great. But until that moment, you are no different than anyone else. You are merely talk. You have virtually zero resume and you have quite a lot to say. Welcome to 90 percent of the XWF. So will I respond to a promo if you launch one? Perhaps, but probably not. I mean, literally, what can you say that would come as a shock to anyone. Words are cheap, as I said before. I need to save my breath for the epic promo and shoot battle I know I am destined to get in with Gabe. Hell, he did EIGHT last time we had a match. EIGHT. I mean, who has time for that? When I was in school my teachers used to have a phrase. It used to be called "KISS". Familiar? It stood for "Keep It Simple, Stupid." I recommend the same. Keep it simple and shut the fuck up. Prove it in the ring. Prove me wrong about you.

[Image: UvqxMxR.png]

XWF RECORD: 25-5-2
XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: 1X (CURRENT)

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode A Day In The Life....Part 1
Author	Message