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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » WAR GAMES 2017 RP BOARD
The Fire Still Burns Part 2
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Chris Chaos Offline
Corporate Chaos



XWF FanBase:
Very random

(heel alignment but liked by many; has earned respect despite breaking the rules often)


#1
12-16-2017, 12:44 AM Tongue  The Fire Still Burns Part 2 -->

Reality sets in.

You try to stop it, but you can't. Life blows by you like freight train, and there is nothing to do but get out of the way and let it barrell along. You punch in everyday, but there aren't enough days on the calendar to satisfy everything you want to do.

One day you are on the beach with your shirt off, the breeze through your hair and a cooler full of booze and women by your side. The next thing you know you are shoveling your driveway, wondering where time went. How it all passed you by so quickly. So quickly and you wonder about all of the things you could have done.


"They are the pinnacle of high society. All of the kids have drug problems. Most of them have OD'ed"

Johnny Mac's voice rang out over the low volume of the grainy TV in the back of the room. He was using his Clearwater High School Student ID from back in the day to cut the coke on the table into small little lines.

"This isn't gonna be easy fellas, but it is going to be worth it."

Johnny was a good kid who had traveled down a bad path. His family was well-to-do, and he was given everything from an early age. Johhny's parents were always giving him the best phones, the hottest new trends in clothes, and let him take the boat every weekend. His first car was was Jaguar. This being said, Johnny was always pretty popular with the ladies. Girls will pretty much do anything to be pampered. Morals fly out the window in the green tinted view of a political figure. There are no morals when money is invovled. So, needless to say, Johnny was getting laid seemingly at will.

But it wasn't enough. There was a fire inside Johnny that burned something fierce. He was never satisfied with being handed anything. He wanted to be appreciated because he earned respect, not because his community status demanded it.


This led Johnny to seek out the opportunities that Tampa, a city with one of Florida's largest ghetto's, could provide for him. He was a different person in the daytime and the nighttime. Maybe that is where the phrase "night and day" came from. The worst part about it all, Johnny's parents trusted him.

"We gotta be in and out, real quick. No games."

He sniffed one of the longer lines on the plastic table. He scrunched his face from the strength of it.

"These fucks won't know what hit 'em. Teach em to fuck with Mac."

Johnny's grandfather owned Fifth Third Bank, a large southern branch. His father was the CEO and his mother owned several car wash franchises. The McDermott name was big in the Hillsborough County area. His uncle was an executive at SunTrust.

Johnny decides that the street life was "cool", and the whole honor code was something he wanted to invest in. He loved hip hop music, but he didn't fully understand it. What these men he idolized were rapping about, he wanted that life. He didn't want to be "sheltered", which was a very obscure way of looking at his bayside property life. He wanted to be the man in Tampa and realized real quickly that as long as he had "mommy and daddy" money, that he would never get respect.

That quickly spiraled into disdain for them. He felt like they held him back from achieving his own success. He felt like their "love" for him was actually them hating him and not letting him "live his life". Twisted, yes. Stupid, yes. But real.


"These people have always been selfish, and now I am going to show them what the real Tampa hood like."

Sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif.

Tampa hood?

He grew up in a $850,000 house!

But who was Chris to make judgements? Taking another sip of his jack and coke, he saw Mac take out a brown paper bag.


"Jax, you're driving."

Jax is what he called Chris Jackson, the real name of future XWF Legend Chris Chaos. Everything had to be abbreviated with Mac, it was a bit annoying, honestly.

Out of the bag he pulled several guns, like 3 or 4. When you are talking handguns, 3 or 4 is several. Scary stuff.

He slid one towards Chris before picking one up.


Click Clack.

Click Clack.


We have masks, too. Oh boy. Mac went all out here. What went wrong with this kid?

Truth is, Chris would kill to have his life. Instead he had a crack head mother who would hit the pipe, bring home a new dude from bingo and scream out a baby every 10 months. Hell, he hadn't showered outside the YMCA in two weeks because they didn't have water in their trailer.

Fuck it.

Chris picked up the mask, looking at it. He looked at the other kids in the room. That is all any of them were, kids. None older than 18 in the room.

Sometimes, you just need to go for it. Life is too short to pass by. You have to make a decision sometimes, and often times it isn't the right one. Your priorities and values go out the window when the phrase "YOLO" comes up.

You do only live once, do you really want to spend it doing nothing?




The community was gated, but on a Sunday Night there was no security guard. Mac knew this. These were rich kids that had 'robbed' him when in reality all they did was rip him off on a weed deal then tell everyone how stupid he was. Normally, this is something you brush off and move onto the next one but the code of the streets said different.

Mac wasn't no punk, and he was going to show this.

The Escalade, in his parents name, of course, rolled through the expensive Palm Harbor neighborhood. The entire inside of the car looked like it was on fire from the inside and when the window rolled down the smoke billowed out like the aftermath of a wildfire.


The luxury truck creeped up the block. The Florida sun was beginning to creep over the flat water horizon, and the shadows of the boat sails were cast over the street at almost every corner.

"These fuckers are going to be outside" he said with a crazed look in his eyes. "They don't suspect a thing."

Chris gulped a bit. This was crazy. Were they really about to commit murder over a weed deal? His life was crazy but this was off the chain. Chris felt the lukewarm metal object in his lap. It felt like 20 lbs, even though in reality it was only a little less than 1 or 2. Some would think that he would know all about these weapons coming from where he did, but where he was from if they had an issue they settled it with their fists.

Guns were for pussies, in his opinion.

But his opinion didn't matter. As the truck he was driving crunched down the cement streets of one of the Gulf Coasts most prestigious neighborhoods, he couldn't help but think that maybe he was doing the right thing. He was helping a friend, there for a teammate, there for someone he expected would do the same for him if the opportunity presented itself.

Down the block he could see the target. A large manicured lawn where there were two tables set up. It was like a scene cut and paste from a frat house. Beer pong, shirts off, chicks in barely anything. Typical rich kids showing off. Flaunting their money for their equally rich neighbors to see, with a touch of rebellion. Every car that lined the street cost more than 50 grand.

Each.

Chris was still borrowing his moms old Buick that barely started and often fell victim to the oppressive Florida heat.


As the black SUV rolled closer, he began to see things that weren't there........

........yet. A premonition?

People were running, screaming, ducking, crying........
bleeding.

It was mass chaos. A nice, quiet, subtle neighborhood turned upside down all because of some kids who thought they were slick. In Chris's opinion, it was too hot out to smoke weed. He never understood why weed was so popular, it never had much of an affect on him.

He was within 50 yards of them now. These kids weren't harming anyone, but he noticed they were, indeed, smoking weed.


"That is MY weed!" Mac growled in a tone he hadn't used before. Chris almost let go of the wheel from the unexpected outburst. Before he could collect himself fully, there was a sound like thunder pounding in small room. It sounded like it was right in his ear, even though it was few feet behind him.

There was that mass chaos. He picked up the metal object in his hand, he noticed he was shaking at he aimed it. People were running, girls were screaming and ducking. One of the tables flipped and beer spilled all over the freshly cut crab grass. A random flip flop sat in the middle of the street as the owner ran towards the expensive shubbary around the house before falling and lying still.

There was so many of them. Far more than he originally saw. All he could do was stare. People were in hysterics, but why wouldn't they be? Their entire world just got turned upside down unexpectedly.

Something about it was magical. The fear, the shock, the complete and utter confusion. He lifted his hand. Maybe if he just shot the ground. His shaky finger moved tighter. His entire arm jumped. He didn't see where the bullet went but he saw a tire on one of the fancy cars explode.

This was pretty cool.

All of the neighbors were outside now, clearly checking on the commotion being caused in their normally peaceful neighborhood.

Some of them were on the phone.

They were calling the police.

The entire time the car never stopped moving. It rolled slow, almost at crawl as the thunder all around him pounded louder. He could feel the sweat pooling under his wool snow hat. The eye holes were almost under water with natural bodily fluid. It was getting tough to see.


Finally, just as quickly as it began, the thunder stopped.

"GO! GO! FLOOR IT!" A voice behind him rang out as he snapped back into some semblence of reality.

The sirens could already be heard. That is the benefit of being in a white upper class neighborhood, the cops come quickly. Ask somebody how quickly the cops respond to East Tampa by Nebraska Avenue.

As the SUV sped off, he felt something come over him. He was terrified. He was going to USF on a football scholarship, he was trying to turn his life around. Mac was smug, proud of what he had done.

When they got back to their neighborhood, after ditching the car in the Bay, of course, they all celebrated with scuzi (Florida beach term for cocaine) and copius amounts of beer. Chris sat and wondered how many people had died in that yard today.

Something inside him enjoyed today. The spontaneous nature of it. The mass panic. The thrill.

It was at this point that he knew that a life of chaos was a life he wanted to live. He was in control of other people's emotions.

The problem is, he could barely control his own.

He wallowed in his own thoughts, both good and bad, until there came a knock on the door.
"Tampa PD". Everyone froze.



[Image: CuxTKgA.jpg]

THE FIRE STILL BURNS


[Image: zcoDFbP.gif]

That day is still ingrained in his mind. The rush, the thrill, the complete exhilaration. Chaos. It is what fuels the engine. The mass panic. For a while, he thought it was dead. Like this fire was extinguished. Like a hydrant had opened somewhere and doused his internal flame with a terminal dose of H2O. He wasn't sure, at one point, that he would ever get it back. This concerned him a bit. He needed to step away but on his terms. His way. So he concocted a plan with Jenny to make the wrestling world think there was a chance Chris Chaos may be gone for good.

But somewhere deep down there was an ember, and sometimes that it all it takes to create a raging inferno. There was still a fire deep inside that even he couldn't extinguish. All he could do was try to run from it, but he had come to a dead end.

It burned within him just a short time ago as a flame as small as the but of a swisher. Once it got to the end, it would die out in puff of smoke and be crushed outside a convinient store in a barrell filled with sand.

The end.

But now.....seemingly out of nowhere it burned like the heat of thousand fires. It scorched, seared, scarred, ruined. It burned deep to the core. It was hotter than any force on earth or in space. It took down even the strongest demons with the lick of a flame so big it could be seen for miles. It melts everything in its path. Ever since Shove It! this fire has been uncontrollable. Internal firefighters have been fighting it for weeks, but they just can't seem to get it under control. It has ravaged, pillaged. Nothing in its path is safe.

Nobody in its path is safe.

There is a fire to feel just like that day again. There is a passion to create as much chaos as possible, win loss or draw. It burns within him to be the best, to climb to the top, to be the legend he knows he can be. What a cruel juxtaposition. One side wants to be successful, one side wants to wreck others success.

Some men......just want to watch the word burn.

Chris didn't care about anyone other than himself, Jenny, and being the best in the world. What happened at War Games, that wasn't solely in his control. Like this fire, the outcome would be unpredictable. But, also like this fire, it would have to be put out by someone else to finally die.

Problem is, there is nobody capable of doing the job.

This fire would rage on within him. He needed it.

He burned with it.

As it burned, he burned.

As he burned, it burned.

He would not stop until the entire professional wrestling world lie in an ashy rubble............


[Image: nmpVWM5.gif]

"I've been dead for so long, and I needed this wakeup call. I needed to be pushed to the brink of mental exhaustion before I could be ready to take on the daily task of being the best again. There is a reason why the legend of Unknown Soldier picked me as the first member of his team. It is the same reason I "won" Shove It! Because I am that.......damn.......good. I just needed to believe it myself again. I told the world I was going to win that event and look what I did. Had Doc not had the tag titles be the prize, I would have went on to beat Jim Caedus, too, and won the entire damn thing.

I have been silent for this long because I am letting everyone else bust their promo nut first. I was letting them get their rocks off. I was letting them get it out of their system. Now, I think it is high time to strike. I am going to start with a skidmark that really doesn't deserve my attention, but his words are so fresh in my mind since he has opened his dick sheath most recently. Micheal Graves........

The man with many faces. The man, and that is a term I use loosely, that had the unmitigated gaul to basically call me a coward by saying I was going to stand back and watch my team drop like a firing squad then blame the loss on them.........

This is the same man whose pride and joy, his ONLY accomplishment worth two squirts of piss, was 'beating' me on Savage a little while go. Need I remind anyone here with a pulse that he was the one who had to come basically out of retirement to face me while masquerading as two other men whose status he will never live up to. Cadryn Tiberius is a sniveling little sewar rat, and he pretended to be him? And Jim Caedus turned his asshole inside out the last time they faced off. Figuratively and literally. Why couldn't Graves just be himself? Was it to add suspense to drive up ratings? Was it to add an element of mystery to a dying show? No. It was because Micheal Graves fears me. He remembers all too well what happened when we squared off last February. He remembers how tough he talked, and how he promised the world he was going to take my Universal Title strap and "shut me up" for good. Well, what happened? I beat him down like a dog. I didn't just beat him by two falls, I beat him by THREE. I took Micheal Graves to the woodshed. Graves knew he needed to throw me off my game because if I had time to prepare for him, and him alone, that it was game over for Ol'Pedo over there. Curtains.

So he wants to talk tough behind a camera? He will never have my accomplishments. He was right about one thing, however, that nobody knows what kind of effort I am going to get out of Soldier. Chasm and McBride are useless. This is a one man team, possibly two, but I alone can survive. It is what I have done my entire career. If I need to do it, I will. But the fact that I will do it on purpose? No. I am in this for the long haul. Graves.....you know that I can survive on my own. You, on the other hand, need to be very worried. You see, if you were in my shoes, you'd die like a sick dog. You have done nothing in 18 years but waste everyone's time. How can somebody whose biggest accomplishment is beating me in a game of guess who really talk shit about a top 50 superstar who was a Universal Champion in his first four months of employment? Graves couldn't even dream of being the Universal Champion.....hell, he can barely dream of being the HeavyMetalWeight. This guy is perhaps the biggest disappointment in the entire War Games event. I have more stock in Grande Ricardo and R.L Edgar than I do in Micheal Graves. He was the weak link in AX3 and he is the weak link now.

Graves, you want to settle this? Fuck War Games. Fuck this game of tug of war. Face me one on one, one final time. No games, no hiding behind faux characters, no excuses. Face me one on one.......or stay in retirement. If you can make your mind up about if you're even retired......you'll probably change that up on us too.

Whattya say? Chaos and Graves, one final time?

I'm sure you will let me know, you have no qualms with putting your foot in your mouth.

Who else has opened their mouths? Oddly enough, besides that face painted 'demon' turned David Schwimmer turned creepier version of aforementioned demon Graves, people haven't had much to say about me. Mistake number one.

Who wants to make mistake number two?


[Image: rVAWqsn.jpg]


TBC.........
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[-] The following 5 users Like Chris Chaos's post:
"The Wolf of Afghanistan" Joshua Schuler (12-18-2017), JimCaedus (12-16-2017), R.L. Edgar (12-16-2017), Unknown Soldier (12-16-2017), Vincent Lane (12-23-2017)




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