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Going Home - Chris Chaos - 12-13-2019
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
THE STORY PICKS UP 2 WEEKS PRIOR TO LETHAL LOTTERY V
The air was calm, a slight breeze from the south, and the ruffle of the palm trees overtook the eardrums. The occasional siren, as was common in Florida, could be heard but overall it was very quiet in Clearwater. The tourist season was over, and the locals were the only ones who inhabited the island this time of year.
The luxury condo complex, Belle Harbor, on Clearwater Beach, was quiet as well. The pool in the common area rippled in the slight breeze, the empty pool area chairs sitting eeriely around the water, casting shadows on the sun kissed concrete. The intercoastal that surrounds the pool area was alive with the small splashes from feeding fish and birds, and the bridge onto the island, visible from the pool area, was wide open.
Inside 1003 Marisol, the right side of the two buildings (Windsong and Marisol), on the tenth floor of the condo complex, the slider door was open, exposing a screen door. The porch light was still on from the night before (truth is, it hadn't been off in 72 hours) and the porch was littered with pizza boxes and beer cans. Inside, it wasn't much better. Not dirty, persay, but disorganized and unkept. Plates overflowed in the sink, and the trashbags sat near the door from the entire week, waiting to go out. Inside the bedroom, Chris Jackson (known to most as Chris Chaos) lie in his bed, his Xbox One controller next to him and his white wife beater stained off-white with the sweat of living in Florida.
He rolled over, groaning, as his alarm went off. Reaching out to hit the delay button, his fingers knocked over a few empty water bottles that sat on the nightstand, and they hit the floor with a thud.
"Goddamnit" he mumbled to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair mangled, his beard showing some greys and longer than he had ever let it grow before.
He groaned again and sat up, looking with a scathing look at the alarm that screeched in his drowsy ears.
It was 230 PM.
"Fuuuck.....its so early."
230 was his morning. As strange as it sounded based on the surroundings, he had a routine. He would get up around this time, sometimes earlier sometimes later, and would stumble to the bathroom and splash water on his face. Then he would sit out on his porch, usually with a beer or a water (he called light beer water), and would play music on his phone as he looked out at nothing in particular. An empty, almost dead stare. His mind would wander.....
“Main is going to end Chaos’s career tonight!”
Robert Main climbs the ladder, but as he does, Chris Chaos pulls himself out from under the skirt of the ring and to the other side of the ladder! He stands on the same rung at Main! Main with a shot to Chaos’s head, grabbing his hair! Chaos in turn grabs Main’s hair!
“This is why you cut your hair short in fights!”
“This is why you condition!”
Both men pull each other upwards on the ladder, neither letting go! Chaos tries to slam Main’s head into the top of the ladder! Main blocks! Main with an attempt at slamming Chaos’s head into the peak of the ladder! The ladder buckles!
“OH NO!”
The ladder’s base below the bottom rung on one side of the ladder cave! The ladder falters, tilts, and both men crash downward onto the exposed pavement!
They both lay there motionless and then it's Main who begins to move. He crawls over to Chaos, and collapses with one hand on Chaos's body. The referee goes for the three count.
1............
1 and a half......................
2...........................
2 and a half...
Chaos is stirring.......................
2 and 3 quarters.....................................
3.
Robert Main climbs the ladder, but as he does, Chris Chaos pulls himself out from under the skirt of the ring and to the other side of the ladder! He stands on the same rung at Main! Main with a shot to Chaos’s head, grabbing his hair! Chaos in turn grabs Main’s hair!
“This is why you cut your hair short in fights!”
“This is why you condition!”
Both men pull each other upwards on the ladder, neither letting go! Chaos tries to slam Main’s head into the top of the ladder! Main blocks! Main with an attempt at slamming Chaos’s head into the peak of the ladder! The ladder buckles!
“OH NO!”
The ladder’s base below the bottom rung on one side of the ladder cave! The ladder falters, tilts, and both men crash downward onto the exposed pavement!
They both lay there motionless and then it's Main who begins to move. He crawls over to Chaos, and collapses with one hand on Chaos's body. The referee goes for the three count.
1............
1 and a half......................
2...........................
2 and a half...
Chaos is stirring.......................
2 and 3 quarters.....................................
3.
| WINNER: AND STILL UNIVERSAL CHAMPION: ROBERT 'THE OMEGA' MAIN! |
He would shift a bit in his chair. A glass ashtray sat on the table next to him, but he didn't even smoke. His thoughts would be flooded, controlled, dominated......memories......dreams?
CHAOS IS OUT COLD!
Jim sits up to his knees, fighting through labored breathing as he stares at the fallen Chris Chaos. Jim glances to the entrance way, then back to Chaos. Jim pushes up to his feet and stomps his way over to Chris. He grabs two fist fulls of hair and pulls Chaos up to his knees, but Chaos is already out cold! Jim steps behind Chaos and locks in a half nelson before pulling Chaos the rest of the way up.
NAIL DRIVER!
Caedus holds the bridge for a pinfall!
ONE!
But Jim releases the pin willingly!
Jim climbs back up to his knees and sits there, seemingly getting more and more angry by the second.
Suddenly, Jim rolls out of the ring and begins pacing back and forth on the outside. The official has no choice but to begin a ten count.
ONE!
TWO!
Jim glares up at the referee before letting out an agitated growl!
THREE!
FOUR!
Jim clearly mouths the words “Fuck this”! As he begins heading up the ramp.
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
Jim stops half way up the ramp and folds his arms into one another as he just stands there watching as the result of this match slowly slips away, and he doesn’t seem to give a damn!
EIGHT!
NINE!
TEN!
Jim sits up to his knees, fighting through labored breathing as he stares at the fallen Chris Chaos. Jim glances to the entrance way, then back to Chaos. Jim pushes up to his feet and stomps his way over to Chris. He grabs two fist fulls of hair and pulls Chaos up to his knees, but Chaos is already out cold! Jim steps behind Chaos and locks in a half nelson before pulling Chaos the rest of the way up.
NAIL DRIVER!
Caedus holds the bridge for a pinfall!
ONE!
But Jim releases the pin willingly!
Jim climbs back up to his knees and sits there, seemingly getting more and more angry by the second.
Suddenly, Jim rolls out of the ring and begins pacing back and forth on the outside. The official has no choice but to begin a ten count.
ONE!
TWO!
Jim glares up at the referee before letting out an agitated growl!
THREE!
FOUR!
Jim clearly mouths the words “Fuck this”! As he begins heading up the ramp.
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVEN!
Jim stops half way up the ramp and folds his arms into one another as he just stands there watching as the result of this match slowly slips away, and he doesn’t seem to give a damn!
EIGHT!
NINE!
TEN!
| WINNER VIA COUNTOUT - CHRIS CHAOS! |
.......His lips cracked a smile. He had finally beaten Jim Caedus after 5 tries. All be it, via count out, but he had done it! Damnit, he had done it!
Shifting in his chair again, Chris took another sip of his "water", his greying beard illuminated in the torching Florida sun.
His thoughts remained the same. Tortured by memories that he could not push out of his brain, and believe-you-me he had tried.
The weak two mean pick themselves up for one last hoorah. Right from Graves, left from Chaos, left from Graves, right from Chaos. Teetering in the middle of the ring like great warriors who refuses to submit to the other. Somehow they continue to exchange blows without falling backward. Will versus will. Desire versus desire. Want versus want. Need versus need. Man versus man. The house crowd is going complete APESHIT for the way these men are refusing to lose to each other. Stump looks on with tears in his tear ducts so proud to be a part of it. Tig's O'Bitties stand at attention. Nipsey is poised to ring the bell for the final fall. Graves finally gets a little extra mustard on a blow and drops Chaos, then puts his exhausted arms out to signal for one final move. Chaos rises, Micheal spews red poison mist into his face and goes for a move. Kato is in THE RING behind Graves. He inches, no, he hits a COLT FOLLOWING sickening Reverse backbreaker over his own back. Graves crumbles. Colt looks up at the clock.
[ :16 ]
[ Chaos 5 | Graves 3 ]
Chaos looks at what just transpired and see's Kato warning Hunt not to call that a fall because the "red mist should have been called as well". Chaos see's the time...
[ :08 ]
[ Chaos 5 | Graves 3 ]
He covers the limp Micheal Graves. Mika looks at Kato who shrugs as if to say "do your job". She counts...
1...
[ :04 ]
2...
[ :03 ]
3!!!
[ :02 ]
[ :01 ]
[ :00 ]
[ Chaos 6 | Graves 3 ]
Mika Hunt gives the okay to Nipsey Russell who shakes his head but rings the bell anyway as the 1 hour time limit has expired.
[ :16 ]
[ Chaos 5 | Graves 3 ]
Chaos looks at what just transpired and see's Kato warning Hunt not to call that a fall because the "red mist should have been called as well". Chaos see's the time...
[ :08 ]
[ Chaos 5 | Graves 3 ]
He covers the limp Micheal Graves. Mika looks at Kato who shrugs as if to say "do your job". She counts...
1...
[ :04 ]
2...
[ :03 ]
3!!!
[ :02 ]
[ :01 ]
[ :00 ]
[ Chaos 6 | Graves 3 ]
Mika Hunt gives the okay to Nipsey Russell who shakes his head but rings the bell anyway as the 1 hour time limit has expired.
| Winner Universal Championship Match: Chris Chaos |
Mike Stump CHAOS WON BY THREE FALLS! AFTER AN AMAZING NIGHT OF WRESTLING AND TALKING ABOUT NOT INTEREFERING IN MATCHES, HIRING SECURITY TO PREVENT IT, GOING BACK AND FORTH WITH CHAOS ALL NIGHT OVER IT... HE JUST SCREWED MICHEAL GRAVES!!!??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT! THE KID HAD IT WON! DAMNIT KATO! DAMN YOU!
His thoughts were broken by the familiar horn he had heard so many times before.....the signal of the local fishing boats coming back into port. Part of his "routine" was to go down to the docks and see what the haul was. This time of year, however, it was mostly just White Grunt (Grey Snapper) and Mangrove Snapper. The Grouper, who preferred warmer waters, had moved further south. He knew what he was about to see, but it gave him something to do.
Retirement at his age, so boring.
He had letters sitting unopened on his desk from a few other companies, but he had already tried his luck in other federations and hadn't been satisfied with the results.
He went to get up, the chair creaking under the weight of the man who just spent a couple hours in it during his day dream session. Stretching his arms, getting feeling back in his legs, he sighed as he walked inside, shoving his feet into his worn-out Nike tennis shoes. Just as he was about to reach for the handle......
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
This startled Chris a bit. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and Jenny wasn't due back from her match in Singapore until later on that night. Who the hell could this be.
He opened the door quickly, ready to defend himself if necessary (god he had gotten so paranoid recently!) and to his shock it was the UPS man. Chris looked the brown-clad man up and down before asking if he could help him with something.
"Mr. Jackson? Chris Jackson?"
"Unfortunately."
"I have a package for you."
The man handed Chris a manila envelope. On it, there sat one word that glared at him with the ferocity of a thousand storms.
CHAOS
"..........sign here, Mr. Jackson."
Chris scribbled on the digitial pad quickly. The man nodded and turned on his heels, walking away towards the elevator as Chris shut the door. Taking a few steps towards the kitchen table, he moved some of the clutter out of the way and popped open the top of the envelope. His eyes immediately went wide when he saw the blue and white XWF logo on the top of the page................
| Chris Jackson, also known as Chris Chaos, it has been quite a while since you have been off the roster. We have not heard from you, and are saddened by your silence in regards to applying for re-instatement. We have, however, reviewed your case, and have found several reasons to state the following: You are cordially invited to re-join the ranks of the XWF, and invited to participate in our upcoming Pay Per View, Lethal Lottery V. Please let us know if you plan on attending the event, not as a spectator but as a participant, and if you plan on moving forward with reinstatement. We hope to hear from you soon. Best, Vincent Lane and the XWF Management Team |
The bottom of the letter had a lip print, as if someone had kissed it.
Sealed with a kiss.
Chris stood for a moment, more in awe than surprise, before shoving the letter back into the envelope and tossing it on the kitchen table. Walking towards the door, he opened it and headed out.
Maybe they had a different haul today. He might as well see, there was nothing else to do.
"Chris?! Chris?! What the fuck is all this! This place is a mess!"
Jenny had gotten home. Chris didn't answer his phone when she called numerous times from the airport, and she was curious if he was okay. Worried, even. He hadn't been himself lately. She was out here competing in matches and winning titles, and he was sitting home with nothing to do. He had never been the do-nothing type. It was really wearing on him.
She wheeled her suitcase into the room, dropping it before going to joing him out on the porch.
"Chris, this place is a disaster! I am gone three days and it looks like you haven't done a damn thing! I swear I can't leave you alone, you're like a damn child! Why is----"
Chris had a piece of paper in his hand.....he was staring at it with a look in his eyes she had not seen in some time.
"What is that?"
Bringing the sheet on paper down, he looked at her, and grinned that same sick grin she had fallen in love with.
"I'm going home."
Chris NEEDED the XWF.
The XWF NEEDED him.
And now.......he would go home, the only place he truly wanted to be.
"You all may not know me, so for those of you who are just now meeting me......my name is Chris Chaos. I used to be a champion here, I am still Top 50 All-Time here, and without a doubt I am part of the reason XWF reached its hay-day.
However, none of that matters anymore. I said at Lethal Lottery that this was a fresh start for me, a new beginning, a clean slate. I began my career as the underdog, nobody took me seriously. I had to earn everything I got. I had to come guns blazing every single night, and bust my ass. I had to earn my admiration, and trust me, it wasn't easy. One thing I never did was back down. I beat Dr. D'Ville to earn my shot at a chamber much like this one........
..........if anyone knows anything about chambers and title's it is me.
But all of that aside......I am back. I am here to reinvent myself, to build my legacy back up, to be what I was when I first stepped into this ring........the toughest son of a bitch XWF has ever seen. The reputation I had when I left no longer matters. All that matters now is the reputation I had when I was on top. All that matters is that I am the Chaos now that had an ultimatum.....the key to the chamber was held over my head like a carrot to a pet rabbit. If I lost, whoever beat me would get my spot. I won 7 straight, and I walked into the chamber hotter than the core of the earth and I pulled off one of the biggest and perhaps most unexpected wins in XWF history. They say history repeats itself, so here we are, full circle.
"Michael Archer Junior.....I will be honest, I don't really know who you are. You probably don't even know who I am other than through namesake and the rumor mill. Let me fill you in."
Chris clears his throat.
"I am Chris Chaos, and I am a legend around these parts. Positive or negative, I am a name that shall not be soon forgotten. Some know me as a former Universal Champion---funny how they seem to forget everything else I have done, all the other belts I have won. I am a Trio's champion, a two time Tag Team Champion, Television Champion........Hart Champion. That's right, Mike, I won the very belt we are set to compete for. I have, in theory, held every belt there was to hold here during my time. They have some new ones now for the C students over on Anarchy, but I can't win a belt I am not here for.
Funny how people remember the Universal Title because it was the FIRST belt I won here. How many can say that? Some climb up the ladder, meandering their way through the mid-card like a autumn corn maze, only to possibly, maybe, one day, get a shot at the ultimate prize. I won that belt first, then seemingly went backwards.
Perhaps that is why this "fall from grace" was highlighted like a bad report card. I won the top belt and worked my way down, eventually fizzling out and calling it quits when I didn't get my way. I let that belt control me, I let it take over my very essence. I let the loss to Gabe Reno define who I was, and as I said at Lethal Lottery, I lost myself because of it. It's a clean slate now, Mikey, and its 0-0 across the board. What happened in the past happened, and I cannot re-write history, but I can damn sure change the future. I am in the best shape of my life, and I have never been more motivated to get into the ring. I feel like the young gun again, I feel like I did when I first got here. I feel like I have something to prove now.....when all I did before was feel like I needed to make excuses.
No more excuses, only results.
Mike, you may not know me, but I know you. I have seen many like you before. You label yourself "The Marksman". Call yourself a hired gun. You are starting off this match against a man named Robbie Bourbon, and the best veteran advice I have is not to take him lightly. I mean, how could you when he is literally the size of a small country....but you get my point. Robbie is a dangerous man when he actually decides to give a shit. Robbie and I have had many battles inside that ring, and I am sure he would tell you the same thing about me. Big match after big match, title bout after title bout, Robbie and I did battle. You're stepping in a pile of elephant shit here and I just don't think you're equipped enough to handle it. I advice you heed my warning, or Robbie is going to tear you to shreds with enough time to complete a game of RISK before the next pod opens. Then Barney Green joins the party and if you thought Robbie was fat and smelly, well......you've got a lot to learn.
So, enough about them, more about me.
I am the most dangerous man on this roster. I salivate at the idea of hurting people and I thrive in these types of matches. Do I think its bullshit that I win a match at Lethal Lottery and get shoved into a chamber with four other men to get my shot at what I rightfully earned? Of course I do....but that is just how things go here in the XWF. You get dealt a shit hand, and you can either play it or fold. Another fun fact about me, I play every hand I am dealt. I do not shy away from anyone. I don't look at your demeanor as confidence, I look at it as cocky. I look at you as the type of shmuck who sees themselves as far more important than they truly are. You’re about as important as a white crayon. You don't have the look of a champion, either, Mike. Hell, your face looks like a rejected muppet. You look like if Charlie Brown shit himself. I bet your Dad Sneezed into your mother to make you.
Mike....you are on the highway to hell and you're almost out of gas. You didn't sit back, you didn't pick your spot. You came out of the gates swinging like a
trying to kill a fly.....and you've lime-lighted yourself. You poor bastard. You don't even know what you've done. You have done a complete 180--which you should be proud of because neither Robbie nor Barney are physically able to rotate that far--and you turned from the Marksman to the Marked Man. You have a target on you now, and if you manage to get by two full states before my pod opens...........you're heading smack into chaos, and like all the other smug second generation assholes who try to do this to impress their fathers....You will be equalized.
Jenny comes into the room, handing him an Evian water bottle.
"What did I miss?"
"Nothing, just my entire opening trash talk segment."
"Oh! About who?"
"Michael Archer Junior."
"Who?"
"Exactly."
"Well whose next?"
"Barney."
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she sits down next to him, looking into the camera with the same excitement as a young child on Christmas. Making fun of Barney was a treat, after all, and oh so easy.
"Barney Green.......
The reason double doors were invented. Barney, is that damn baby due yet? Goddamn you're still carrying that thing around I see. I see nothing really changes...you're still as much of a loser as you where before I left. Congrats, Barney.....you're setting trends. You've reached that awkward stage of being fat where I can't tell your gender. That's okay though, Barn, it happens. As long as you are happy in your own skin, who am I to knock you? But the fact that you are still waddling around pretending you are a wrestler or matter to anyone is laughable. Hey, there are options out there, buddy. If this wrestling thing doesn't work out (and I mean more so than it already hasn't worked out), you could become a 4-chin teller."
Jenny snort laughs, Chaos slaps his knee with a smile.
"I crack myself up. But in all seriousness, Barney Green is either the toughest, or the dumbest, SOB I have been in the ring with. That dude seems immune to pain."
"And immune to diets, apparently", Jenny added.
"....he's not going to be immune to diabetes. Or this ass kicking. You see, Barney and I have had our run ins and every single time it doesn't end well for the big man. The last go-around even got a little personal when I went to the cementary and dug up his little whore....remember that?"
"That was classic."
"Thank you. But for real, how many times has Barney Green excited us with news of him hanging it up, only to come back a month later claiming he was feeling nostolgic. That may be the only thing Barney and I have in common. We NEED the XWF. I swear, besides pain, Barney is addicted. Addicted to pain, addicted to failure, addicted to the abuse of the XWF, and addicted to the Domino's order status page. I can't say that this is the match that finally puts Barney away, because so far nobody has been able to do that, but I can promise you that this will be just another match in that triple digit loss column he has wracked up over the years. Barney knows it, too. He knows how bad he is, and I think he gets a kick out of getting the shit kicked out of him. I think he gets off on it."
Jenny twists her face.
"That's sick."
"It is, but hey, it's the giving season. If Barney wants another ass-whooping for Christmas, he's gonna get it. You know Jen, back in my wild days, I paid ten dollars for a blow job from a crack head in Pinellas Park that was still better quality than what Barney calls 'wrestling'. Barney, you're like what, mid forties now? At your age, most come home to a loving girlfriend, fiancee, or wife...which, judging from your abhorrent personality, is something you will never experience. At this point, your only option is to jack off that baby penis of yours and cry about what could have been. Mirrors can't talk, but luckily for you, Barn, they can't laugh either. They can't tell you that you are a sad sack of shit, but they can show you. You must be a slow learner."
"....almost as slow as his metaoblism." Jenny chimed in.
"Thanks......but this can't be all fat jokes. There has to be something else you can say about Barney....."
Chris scratches his goatee, looking up at the ceiling.
"Barney....let's be real here. Your birth certificate is nothing but a participation award. You're a joke, have always been a joke, and always will be a joke. Your entire life is a /RoastMe sub-reddit. I understand that you need something to validate this smoldering pile of rotting garbage you call an existence, but goddamnit Barney stop coming back and making us all feel guilty! You're only in this match because Vinnie is afraid to leave the special needs competitors off the cards for fear of social media backlash. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. You have no shot, no chance, no small speck of hope in this match other than maybe lasting long enough to see my pod open. Then its curtains. Honestly.....and I'm not just saying this.....honestly....Barn.....put the cupcake down and pay attention......honestly Barn.....at this point in your life/career/existence....we'd be better off with Drezdin."
Jenny does a cross in a mocking fashion, her head down, as if she was praying for Barney Green. She looks back up with a sinister smile.
"Speaking of fat jokes, that brings me to Robbie Bourbon. You and me go way back, bud, as I just told the rookie. Tag matches, title matches, hell any kind of match you can think of. Back and forth, back and forth.......and yet here we are, staring at each other once again. You were there, weren't you Robbie, there in that chamber when I took the belt off Peter Gilmour and did us all a favor. You were there when Chaos was born. I am pretty sure I won that match after I scored a pinfall because you were too busy trying to tell yourself you really are a superhero and had powers beyond wearing clothes that are too tight and polishing off an entire Tyson warehouse of chicken tendies. You lept off the top of the chamber, if I remember correctly. Lept as if gravity didn't exist and landed in a pile of your own ineptitude. I remember that fall, how it sounded.......shit Haiti hasn't been the same since."
Jenny spits out her water with a "pppsshhhhhttt" and laughs. Chris shoots her a look, but continues.
"I beat you then and I will beat you now. You're much better one on one, Rob. You don't play so well with others. You're like the fat outcast who will do anything for attention, and literally ends up with egg on your face.....I mean, really....literally....
Your ego has always been your issue. Your ego and your lack of caring about the task at hand. XWF has always been a playground to you. You always puzzled us. Loaded with talent, but lacking in clutch. Lacking in give-a-shit. You are the kid who doesn't get invited to play kickball, but loudly (maybe too loudly) proclaims that 'kickball is gay' and that you didn't want to play anyway. Meanwhile you sit on the bench nearby, watching and rambling on with every nonsensical and over-the-top-for-shock-value insult your empty head can process, hoping to impress the others around you. Then, just when you see how much fun the other kids are having, you can't allow them to have all the glory and just before the ball reaches the kicker you swoop in and take it. If Robbie can't play, nobody can! They protest but what are they gonna do, you're huge! Easily the biggest kid on any playground you decide to loiter at. You're a terror, and the other kids are afraid of you, even if they say they aren't.
But.............buuuuuuuuuuut..........
Put Robbie in a setting like this one, where he is allowed to play, and it is a much different scenario. This time, it is Robbie's turn to kick. The ball is rolled, he has his eyes on it......here it comes.....and the next thing you know, he is on his back. Total whiff. Everyone is laughing. Robbie gets up, stomps his feet and storms away, proclaiming kickball is gay anyway and he never wanted to play in the first place...........only to show up again whenever he feels like the attention isn't on him, to rinse, cycle and repeat. Robbie, you're good when you're in control........ but this match is total chaos. This match anything can, and usually does, happen. This is Robbie's kryptonite and by the end of it all..........he will be where he always is.......on his back with another excuse as to why it's gay and he didn't even want to be there in the first place.
I mean hell, Rob, even War Pig dropped you and I am pretty sure he hasn't even dropped his balls yet.
Shame."
Jenny holds up a sign that says "Shame", obviously hand-written in pink sharpie.
"You....uh....you just have that in case?"
"Huh?"
"How did you know I was going to say shame?"
She didn't have an answer.
"So....you have that just in case.........."
She turns the sign towards him with a pouty face.
"Anyway......that brings me to Mr. Legend.........The man who did what many thought was impossible, taking the Hart Title off Tony Santos. The man who claimed he was "so happy to see" that I was the number one contender. Centurion, if anything, it should be the sham this match has become that should make you squeal with excitement. You versus me, one on one, mano-e-mano, would not turn out very well for you. The way this match is set up, you are protected. You get to come in all fresh faced and spring-legged against 4 other men who have spent the last however long beating the shit out of each other. You are being coddled, protected, sheltered. I won that come back match fair and square, and yet again I am being shit on. What has mister archer done? Nothing, he is getting a title shot in his first match. What has Barney Green done besides clear out his local Golden Corrall and decide he was bored enough to come back for more? What has Robbie Bourbon done except use his namesake to weasel his way into the chamber match, and get his ass handed to him by his partner. I WON that match against 3 other very game competitors....and I did so in dominating fashion. I brought Ned Kaye back down to earth, I sent Hanari Carnes back to whatever floating trash heap he came from, and I made Jim Jimson look even dumber than he already makes himself look. This match should be 1-on-1, and this Hart Title should be mine.
So you are happy to see me? Wrong. You were shaking in your designer shoes. If anything you are happy now, knowing that the champions probability in these matches are substantially higher than the challengers chances.
I sat back and I didn't say anything until now. I didn't want get into a Blackwater-Scully Floribama Shore slap fight with you after the Pay Per View, because quite frankly, I am above that. You should be too. You and I are both Top 50 competitors, you and I both have impressive resumes, and you and I both could tear the house down on any given night. So if you end up winning based on the fact that probility is one your side, I would expect nothing less than to be given a 1-on-1 match on the next show..........
..........but I won't have to worry about that. I am walking out of this chamber the same way I walked out of Atlantic City in 2016...as the champion. Don't worry though, I'll give you that rematch. I won't hide the belt, shelter it, try to pick and choose like I did with the Uni. I will take on any and all comers, and I will lay them down just like the rest. Even you, Cent, even you. You walk around with your nose in the clouds, like being the Hart Champion makes you a demi-god. To deflate your ego, we'd need more than a pin. We'd need a scalpel and a bucket. You walk around like a knight in shining armor, but in reality you’re just a loser in tin foil. You’re like Kanye West, without the talent, like Jackie Chan, but a little f-a-g-g-o-t. I am the breaker of spirits, the smasher of egos, the slayer of giants.........and at this "Mini-Pay Per View" as they are dubbing it to help their slipping ratings, I am going to show the world why I am the best in the world at what I do.
This is my ascension back to the top. This is the revitalizing of my legacy. This is the moment when Chaos emerges as the only true champion this roster currently has. This is the night where you open your eyes and realize that this match ISN'T them protecting you....this match isn't your scapegoat......it isn't yours to win. Your purpose in this match is not to remain champion, Cent, this is the night you realize that your only purpose was to break my fall."
"Goddamn".
![[Image: jwT1MTC.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/jwT1MTC.jpg)