<script type="text/javascript" src="https://ajax.googleapis.com/ajax/libs/jquery/1.7.2/jquery.min.js"></script>
<script>
/* based on Hows my post v2
Created by HolySavior of iFusion */
jQuery.noConflict();
function word_count() {
var post_words = jQuery(this).val().split(/\W/g),
count = 0,
char = jQuery(this).val().length;
for (var i = 0; i
if (post_words[i].length >1 ) { count++;}
}
var iObj = jQuery('#count');
var html = '';
html = "
"+ count+" words, "+ char+" characters
";
if(count >= 5000){ html+= "Holy shit!! This post is over 5k! It better have some damn good sex scenes!";
}else if(count >= 3000){ html += "We're getting to the point where people may consider this post a little too long unless it's an AMAZING RP!";
}else if(count >= 2000){ html += "You have broken the 2k mark! Many people would argue that 2k is the perfect stopping or to-be-continued point.";
}else if(count >= 1500){ html += "1500 words is a great stopping point for many people, but some will go further!";
}else if(count >= 799){ html += "If this is an RP, you're making good progress! If this is an OOC post, uh oh!";
}else if(count >= 700){ html += "Lucky 700! If this is an IC reply to somebody, it's getting lengthy. If it's a full RP, you have a lot of room to work with.";
}else if (count >= 100){ html += "You have broken the 100 word mark! You're an animal!";
} else if(count >= 52){ html += "Picking up some steam! Can you break 100?";
} else if(count >= 50){ html += "SUCK MY DICK!";
} else if(count < 50){ html += "This looks like it is going to be a pretty short post";
}
iObj.html(html);
}
</script>
The realest people are the ones who stay true to who they are. Fame doesn't effect them. Money doesn't do much either. So what is to be said of a man who rises to a fame and fortune in a few months? Can he be expected to handle the rigorous planning that goes into such a life to remain successful? Apparently not. Now Playing... the crumbling by the hour legacy of Chris Chaos. Starring the Universal Champion... wait, where did he go? That's Chris for ya. A minute late and a dollar short. Some call that shrinking in the largest moments. I called it 'ghosting'. Because ever since the match we had on that fateful night in the Arctic, Chris has been cruising along completely oblivious to where he is or what he is doing. Metaphysics; trying to explain something not of this realm. The very term 'ghosting' conjures images of a supernatural transport to somewhere with goblins and ghouls hovering nearby. The upside down. Maybe. Just maybe Chris Chaos has gone full apparition. Caught in a never ending battle between Angels and Demons. The Amazon, Grace, called him 'devil'. To me, he appears to be a mere orb left in a place where Chaos once was present. The man is a shell of himself. A fucking ghost.
Doesn't Chris Chaos look like the security guard who quickly turns over his gun to robbers when they hold a banana to the back of his neck?
Tortured by the lack of proper rebirthing... left to flail until he is ultimately taken. Much like the improbable rise he once enjoyed, his fall will be just as perplexing of a phenomena. Residual leftovers will scatter the floor behind him. Lit by UV wands that parallel the places he once occupied. It will become a ritual of faith to call one what controls the life we live, and ask it to take him back. The ceremony will be sacred and short. His being will illuminate all of our senses as he is pulled into a haunting cycle. Because nothing else will be left after Lethal Lottery. The Championship will be gone. The man will be empty of syncretism. His spirit will remain intuitive, but in what broken skin will it matter? Some might call it witchcraft, others magic. An event so profound that it leaves a permanent imprint on whoever witnesses it. Photos will document it. But will they be accurate? Will they show a man's downfall from beginning to end? Or just a bland room, with colorless décor, and in the distance the face of what we used to call the 'gold standard'? Maybe reincarnation will break him of his ailing and bending desire. Or it could be given to someone living, more deserving of its gifts. Holy nights, desperate days, these hours leading to Lethal Lotto are the most religious of Chris Chaos' life. Searching for healing. Trying to decipher what has happened to him, and whether it means Heaven or Hell. Neither, Chris. Buddy. Pal. It means your guardian has been missing in action for quite sometime. And that he's come back for your belt, and in addition, your soul.
Doesn't Chris Chaos look vaguely like the overly intense softball dad who never had a son and is trying to live out his unrealized sports dreams through his obese daughter, who plays first base, and he refers to as 'a power hitter'?
Begrudging tactics will become the platform upon which Chris lays his head for this match. He will hope that the jury of audience members don't find him guilty of another bore fest like his last several matches. Will they realize that he's a 'ghost'? He looks like the real deal. Talks a little like him too. But something is... off. Missing. It's like someone asked him if he committed a crime that he didn't and instead of saying no, he plead the fifth. But why? Will they be smart enough to wave their way through the bullshit, until the 'Radical' séance? "We the jury, find the defendant, exorcised in the court of Lane". Something like that. Something is exactly what he won't find as his empty hands open, and left behind are particles of who he used to be. 5 years... maybe 10. An amount of time removed from now based on reflection, and a mirror shattered by his own scarred knuckles in the heat of facing reality. It could be evil. It could be good. But it will definitely be pathetic. Subtly the fan mail will stop coming. After each year growing less and less, and him talking himself into the fact that they 'just didn't mail it'... or maybe 'passed away'. When really their fingers cramped to write other emerging stars in his wake. Fundamental denial. He knows it all too well. After all, this won't be his first big flop. Did anyone see that match against Micheal Graves where he had to get bailed out by a General Manager? Did people view the match where he was nearly electrocuted against Mr.Tidbits? Doesn't it seem like as the weeks progress, it's just more of the same? I'm sure it will be a relief to finally take a deep breath and know that the burden of his reign will be lifted. By a man who pisses charisma.
Doesn't Chris Chaos resemble the guy answering the door at 3am who instantly realizes that the police officer is there to give him life-altering bad news?
In a cell you cannot disappear. There is nowhere to squirm off to. No place to hide. Man to man. We will settle the feud that has taken over. Shaken from a once fruitful foundation and given to the lowest common denominator to divide and conquer. Chaos really is the lowest. The local stepping stone, Trax, put up more of a fight than Chris did last time we faced. Chris Chaos has been on a different frequency, but even he can probably still tune into the boo's that litter all microphones any time he sets foot on a stage, into an interview, to wrestle. Could that be why the lost little boy look is second only to the rapid diminishing skills? Remember what a suplex is? That thing you used to do before weapons and copping out became your end game? What's it like to be a hologram? A projection of what you could be? Yet, still alive to experience the anguish of failure first hand? Chris likes to manifest into many things. The problem is, we've seen them all. Petty Chris, Whiney Chris, Sad Chris, Mad Chris, Glad Chris, Rad Chris, Fad Chris... BAD... CHRIS. Plain and simple. An entity producing no real purpose other than Championship placeholder. What will he do when that's gone? Will the Chaos collapse into a burnt out star? Maybe gravity will force his universe to reform in a way that will be less frighteningly depressing. Instead of disappearing like a ghost, he could grow tired of the endless battle, and finally pull the trigger. In a room with rod iron bed frames, and a book to put in between to silence the shot. I guess it depends on his spiritualism. Incorporeal. Left for the examiners to discuss the meaning of thanatology and suicide. Desperate men do desperate things. The first of which is sure to be another dastardly deed, if he evokes a rematch. Landmines a plenty are covering the ground upon which he steps. One wrong move... and 'ghost' is no longer a turn of phrase... but a factual description.
Doesn't Chris Chaos remind you of that judge at the local chili cook-off who puts his finger in your bowl and says "it needs a little more meat"?
Physical influences a side, which will be dark and painful as we use every inch of that Cell to maim each other. Hurt each other. Change each other. That match will single handedly change the dynamic of energy in the arena. North Koreans may be familiar with turmoil, but they have never experienced two Icons battling not named Godzilla or King Kong. The change in energy... those quantum mechanics will set the stage to squeeze out the egotistical ectoplasmic jargon that Chaos spews out of his mouth for good. A gift. Deja vu while I kick his present ass, or wondering off in lala land ass through whatever portal I have to in order to be what I was born to be. XWF's shining star. The new Omega. By disregarding the former Alpha. Call me clairvoyant. Call me a cocky son of a bitch. Call me the guy who always says more than he does, or does more than he says. I don't give a damn. Call me Universal Champion. Let the idea of a Gabe Reno stand possess your very ability to comprehend anything else. It will be that profound. That special. Sprinkle a little experimentation in the aftermath on Chaos. Let the demonologists pull him limb from limb in search of the biggest conundrum that have ever known. The biggest bust since Donald Sterling. Regression can be worked through, with the help of therapy, and time. Maybe Chris can use a chakra to channel his former self back into more than a fringe prayer. Because that is all he has left between now and Lethal Lottery. The blueprint has been set forth by the man who knows him best. One who can guarantee, Chris, that no matter what aura you walk in with... you had better be prepared for an out-of-body experience without a hitch, courtesy, of yours truly. Bitch.
☆
Check out Backstage Page for full list of XWF achievements.
![[Image: 4H375RW.png?6]](http://i.imgur.com/4H375RW.png?6)
- X-treme Wrestling Federation chat room! - ![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
