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Chris Chaos · (10-07-2016)

CHAPTER ONE: DEPARTURE

The air was a little chilly with the breeze. Fall was upon us. The normal hustle and bustle of a big city air port buzzed and hummed, the occasional horn and tire screech. The airport is an interesting place---a bio diverse melting pot of cultures, languages, lifestyles and….above all else….secrets. Skeletons. You never know what the people you encountered in an airport were hiding. That is not a racial thing, we aren’t talking terrorist plots, we are talking the everyday secrets that every person on this planet keeps locked away, rotting in a mental and emotional chest.

Tampa International Airport was a fondue pot of different and exciting shit to see. Being just far enough south to have a tropical theme but just north enough to be civilized, this airport was a hub for many people going to crazy and exotic places. Bringing their secrets with them.

Chris pulled up to the curbside check-in (everything in Florida is done outside if they have their way), and got out, tossing his keys to the valet driver. He was alone. No Bruce. No Jenny. He needed to be alone. This was something he had to do by himself, a place he needed to get to himself. Both mentally and literally. Pulling his wheeled suitcase with him to the ticket counter, he looked around, noticing all the people. It was a busy day today. But what he noticed was how all these people were like sheep being herded into line after line, and never stopping to question why. Why were there so many lines? Why did people always conform to the natural ‘order’? Why did people expect that just because they are told something that it is fact. That is like Doctor D’Ville. Chris was told he was the cream of the crop, but why? Nobody ever took the time to explain it. He wasn’t, but the fear put into everyone else that he was was enough to set it as fact.

Total bullshit.

After printing out his boarding pass, Chris walked to the escalator and began his assent to the security line. He was feeling good, for once. He had money, a nice pad, a hot woman, general success. He certainly wasn’t traveling the country in a goddamn Winnebago with a stunt double from ghost busters. What did people see in this guy?

The security line was longer than Chris would have liked, so while he waited, he decided to people watch. Getting inside someone’s head was one of his favorite things. It was chaotic in its own beautiful way.

Like the guy over here in the sandals, cargo shorts and button up silk shirt that wasn’t fully buttoned up. He had a white mark around his ring finger where he obviously has a wedding ring, when it is convenient. He was a business man that everyone loved in the office, and often held company cookouts at his house. He drives a big car and donates to his kids school for tet books and improvements in the classrooms. To everyone’s eyes, he is a great guy, a big shot, and an all around awesome dude. But what they don’t know is that he takes frequent breaks from his office at work to go to the local strip club. He has Backpage.com saved on a secret account. He also had an AshleyMadison.com account. He had made bad business deals and put his family in crippling financial debt. He, of course, had hidden accounts that his wife was too stupid to find and gambled with family money constantly in back room poker shacks. The car that “needed to be turned in because of a recall” was really lost during one of these games. They don’t recall Mercedes.

This man was heading to the Caribbean to meet up with his Russian Mail Order Bride he paid for with his daughter’s college fund—hoping he would win back during a poker game---and was going to do nothing but drink, blow and sex for a weekend before returning home for another week of acting and hoping the loan shark had given up. But here he was, in the eyes of everyone around him, a nice guy. “Have a nice trip, sir” the TSA woman told him, smiling. He was a monster. His cellphone rang, he answered it as “Doctor Phillips.” He was a monster. He was a doctor. You can’t judge a book by it’s cover.

…..And look at this lady. Moderately dressed. Has on crocks and her bag is made of hemp. The side of her head is dreaded on the right side. She has a nose ring that looked like wood, and was talking to someone about the “rainforest” and “deforestation” and “I’m not a lesbian”. This woman loved everyone, and animals, and believed that we are on this earth for a spiritual reason and it is her goal to help anyone and everyone. Her dream in life is for people and animals to live in unison. To the naked eye, she is a humble individual who always smiles and hugs when she first meets you instead of a hand shake.

….But just this morning, she showed her true colors. See, she wanted everyone to live in unison when it was suitable for her and her needs. Just this morning she encountered a homeless person and their dog. Just as the beggar came into her view, she pretended to be on her cell phone just so she didn’t have to encounter this particular nuisance. “Ugh, ew” she said under her breath. “These people are the worst kind. Get a job”. But what she doesn’t tell people is that she was kicked out of the house at 16 because she got pregnant and lived as a hitchhiker on the main highways in Florida for the net few years. She joined the EPA and decided to be a peace activist because her self esteem was so low that if she did this job she would look important. She went to school and got a degree so she would seem important. Her degree said “doctor”. She was not a doctor. She was a monster.

What was the point of this? It was that people aren’t who you think they are. People aren’t who they are on the outside. You never know what you are encountering whenever you meet a new person—you never know what kind of demons they harbor.

Chris finishes, and gets through security. Pulling his bag he walks towards his terminal.

“Doc….I have said it before and I will say it again. You don’t know what you are getting into. You don’t know who I am. What you have seen to date in XWF, that is not who I am. I haven’t dug deep to the inner recesses of my demonic soul because I have not had to. What, I am going to bring the devil to the flesh for the goddamn television title? You saw part of what I can do in my match with Isabella---putting her through the table, spearing her through the barricade. That, Doc, was only foreplay. I won’t be allowed, also, to do a lot of those things because of the ‘standard match’ rules. But, throughout my time in the ring I have learned some tricks, Doc. I know how to bust someone open and spill blood without using weapons. I know how to dislocate joints, break bones, and strain muscles. I know how to take a human body apart like Legos. I haven’t done it, yet. I haven’t had to. But this match is bigger than a title match. This match is bigger than any match I have had here. This match is the beginning of an era. The Era of Chaos. You have sat atop your proverbial throne for some time now. You have held every title there is to hold. But I know who you are Doc. You ARE beatable. Your days are numbered as a demi-god here, and you know it. It eats you alive inside, doesn’t it? It tears you apart. You have fear in your heart. I can see it. You are nervous about what happens if I beat you. How you ought to phrase it is, what happens WHEN I beat you.”

Chris got to her terminal for his flight to Norway. Sitting down and laying his bag down, zippers up, he pulled out his headphones.

“I am coming, Doc. You won’t be able to get away from me. I will be a thorn in your side, a stick in your craw. I am coming to take what you have and make it mine. The only reason you are still relevant is because of your alliance with Beetlejuice. This company is mine. I am here to take it, officially.”

He put his headphones on, scrolling through some songs on Spotify.

His eyes darted around, there were people everywhere. People coming and going. All about to board a plane, be 20,000 feet in the sky with virtually 0 control over their destiny for however many hours the flight takes.

“Doc, I am leaving my comfort zone to come and prove myself. I am flying 9 hours on a plane to a country that doesn’t speak my language, has one of the top justice systems in the world---therefore doesn’t embrace chaos---and is cold most of the year. That is not anything remotely close to my comfort zone. But, it doesn’t matter Doc, if the ring is in Norway, Russia, Brazil or right here in Tampa International fucking Airport, when I step between those ropes I am IN my comfort zone. My only job now, is to take you out of yours. I will be up in your face, Doc. I am not backing down. You do not frighten me. You do not intimidate me. You may be the big fish in a small pond for half the jagoffs on this roster, but not to me. You a small fish in a shark tank. I will eat you. Digest you. Then shit you out. Why? Because I have to. Someone has to take you off your pedestal. Why not me, the future of this company and the one man who can and will take Scully down.

It is funny, Doc. You said you have never been a stepping stone for anyone. Well, times change. That is ALL you are. My quest for the Universal Title begins with you. My quest to be the best, begins with you. My goal of one day ruling the XWF begins…..with…..you…...”

---Now boarding U.S Air Flight 1789 to Oslo. Last Call---

CHAPTER 2: THE ARRIVAL

Landing in Norway way an interesting experience. Not only was it much damper and chillier than he had anticipated (wearing a tank top and cargo shorts with sneakers), but he didn’t expect everything to be so gray. He thought it would be much greener. But this was fitting, wasn’t it? This match was going to be gritty and dirty, so why bother soaking up the paradise?

What a weird language this was. Nordic. Viking like. What was Vinnie Lane thinking? He was sending his superstars to the freaking Game of Thrones. But for Louis D’Ville, it was more like the hunger games.

Okay, now, where the fuck is baggage claim?

Bagasje krav, ned trapper

The fuck kind of bogus all language is this? And why didn’t they have English signs as well? Chris decided to just follow the people who got off his plane, assuming they were going to where he needed to go. Seemed like a novel idea.

Then he saw the sign he needed.

bagasje krav

"You see, Doc. I am here, completely out of my element. But I have to learn to survive and adapt to anything thrown at me. I have stepped completely out of my realm, and I have entered yours. I am in a foreign country, the underdog, on a show I haven’t fought on much. You have all the cards. You are the heavy favorite. But favorites don’t always win, do they? NCAA tourney is a good example. Sports in general. Why do we like them so much? Because the underdog pulls it off sometimes. The underdog steals the hearts of the crowd. Not that I give two fucks in space about the crowd, but you get what I mean. You have been on the top too long. People are bored with you. Face it. Your act is dried up, stale. It is the same thing every single time. ’I am helping people. They are my patients. I am a doctor. Satan! Arrgh! Satan!’. It is old now, Doc. Nobody cares anymore. We live in a progressive day and age. Everyone is looking for what is new and trendy. And Doc, I hate to be the one to tell ya, but chaos is trendy."

Chris grabbed his back and pulled the handle up. He wheeled it out the front door and like an infant animal venturing into the wilderness for the first time, he would have to survive. A foreign land. A foreign culture. Gray weather. Ominous.

Getting outside he decided if hailing a cab would be a good idea. How would he communicate to tell the driver where to go? Damn XWF management for not having a car service for him. He was about to beat their top star and they make him take a damn cab?

He put his hand up, but all the cabs drove past him. After about the 5th or 6th, he decided fuck it. He was going to walk. The rain began to fall. It felt good.

As Chris walked, he noticed the landscape. The buildings were different here. They looked so old. They weren’t, but they looked it. The stadium was a goddamn soccer field. He was fighting Doc in a goddamn soccer stadium.

"You see, Doc. I like the rain. There is something so natural about it. Something so pure. Something beautiful. I enjoy the rain. I know up there on your pedestal you may not get rained on, but down here where I am, I have to go through the rain, sleet and snow to get to the peak. Your the summit of everest, and I am still at the base. Have you ever seen the second Jurassic Park? There is a quote in that movie that I love. You don’t strike me as someone who owns a tv or has cable, or even gets out of the winnebago much, so let me tell it to you, in context.

’Remember that chap about twenty years ago? I forget his name. Climbed Everest without any oxygen, came down nearly dead. When they asked him, they said why did you go up there to die? He said I didn't, I went up there to live.’

That is me in a nutshell doc. I am climbing everest, with all the odds against me, and nobody believes I will make it. But I am not going to the summit to die, oh no, I am going there to live. No matter what you do to me, I am going to keep coming, Doc. You will find yourself perplexed and frusterated. What on earth can you do to keep me down? Nothing. I will continue to come, Doc. When you expect it and when you don’t. No matter where you turn Wednesday, no matter where you look, all you will see if is chaos all around you.

.....and that’s a beautiful thing. Just like the rain."

CHAPTER 3: THE HOTEL

The hotel was nice, surprisingly. The bed was comfortable. Chris peeled his soaked clothes off and threw them in the sink. He changed into a red shirt with TAMPA BREWERY written on it in faded black letters and grey nike sweat pants. Sitting on the bed, he looked around. What kind of chaos could he create? He lived for that.

He picked up the phone and hit 0.

Hallo. Resepsjon (Hello, Front Desk).

"Does anyone in this god forsaken country speak English?" After hearing what he assumed was a «hang on», someone with a thick accent got on the phone.
"Halo?"

Well, it was English, he supposed.

"Yeah, is there any way I could get some food to the room? I am starving. Do you do room service?"

The voice on the other line was talking to someone else in that pig latin langauge the speak, before getting back on the line. "Yaahh. Yahh wat does ya want?"

"Surprise me."

Chris hung up. Let’s see what this country, which isn’t known for their top end cuisine, comes up with.

Chris is sitting on the bed, kind of bored to be honest. He just wanted it to be Wednesday so he could come into that big ass soccer stadium and knock a carcass around. He just wanted it to be October 12th already so he could prove his worth to this company. He had the biggest match of his career coming up. Even bigger than his match with Jinx, which was his first win over a ‘top tier’ competitor over in that company based out of Phoenix.

This was his chance, his opportunity.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Answering it, Chris saw a bell boy standing there. He had a food tray. Pulling it into the room, Chris nodded at the man. He held his gloved hand out for a tip, and Chris chuckled, shutting the door in his face.

“Now, I plan to eat, Doc. I am going to feast like the storybooks. Whatever the hell is under here, I don’ t care. I am going to eat your career Wednesday. I am not going to eat this slop, I just wanted to see if they would bring it. You see, I get what I want. Always have, always will. And what I want is your head on a post. Call it a trophy. I said I don’t know why those hunters do that, maybe I see why. It is a pride thing. I want to be the one who came in, as basically a rookie for all intents and purposes, and knocks you off. You are like the game winning boss, and I have to beat you to beat the game. You have to beat the game eventually. You have to do what it takes to win the game. That is what I plan to do. Whatever it takes.

This is not going to be a match for the weak at heart. This is not a match pregnant women should watch. This is will be a faint inducing match. I know it is a normal match, as I have said, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bloody you up and leave you a messy heap in the ring. I mean, honestly, with the clout that you have, who has come in and looked you eye to eye and told you they were not just going to beat you, but hurt you? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised as a veteran if you have a trick up your sleeve. Have Soldier come out. He can get his head kicked off too. I have trained far too long to let another big match slip through my grasp.

This is going to be the main event. Fuck the two title matches. This will be the match of the night. This will be the match that people will be talking about for days, weeks, and months after. This will be the match that defines the new era of this company. The chaotic storm will roll in like Hurricane Matthew is hitting my home state right now, and it will, like Matthew, fuck shit up. Nothing will ever be the same for you again after this match, Doc. Nothing will be the same for the XWF. The only constant will be chaos. The established order will lie in shambles and as you look up at those stars behind the lights, you will know that finally your time is up. That finally, mercifully, your reign of terror has come to an end and a new dictator is in charge. His name is Chris Motherfucking Chaos….

...and he is coming for blood.

TO BE CONTINUED

XWF RECORD: 5-2-2 ....because a double pin is a draw and a draw is not a loss, so fuck off!
[Image: e1HesW8.jpg]

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