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Chris Chaos · (02-15-2017)

GOING TO WAR

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.

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Bullets fly by in every direction, making a whizzing noise that was louder than a sports ref's whistle. They explode into the ground with a thud that sounds like a brick hitting wet mud. You have to push forward, because it is your agenda, your assignment....it is your life. Out here you live or you die. But if you stand still, death is a sure thing.

Your brother in arms is next to you, mud sticking his feet to the ground as well. His gun was out in front. You knew his leg felt like Jello too, but you knew he had to push on. Your country doesn't necessarily like his country, but due to fate you have the same enemy. If this were any other day you would probably be in fisticuffs with this same man, but now you both ran up a wet field of death for the prospect of what lies ahead.

More whizzing.

ZRRRRTT

ZIIIING

ZRRRRT

Somewhere not far away from you, there was an explosion. You could feel the heat from it. You could feel a small pain in your hip. You must have gotten some recoil. That doesn't matter. Your enemy is looking you dead in the eye and you need to continue to push forward. It is you or him.

There is screaming all around you. Blood stains the moist ground, along with trails of human anatomy. You aren't sure if you are stepping on a mud patch or a piece of intestine. Clouds of dirt and dust blurry the air. Your retinas burn from it and you aren't even sure you are moving in the right direction---you just know you are moving.

The ground gives way underneath you as another explosion rocks the entire world, seemingly, not too far from you. Your knees hit the soft surface below you but you push with your core muscles to get back in a somewhat upright position. You can see your target, but still it seems like an eternity away. It seems like it is impossible to reach. But anything is possible is the mind believes. Your mind will continue to run long after your body quits. Your mind is the strongest organ in your body.

You can't feel your legs, your arms are too heavy, the liquid on your face is clearly blood---you aren't even sure you can feel your own soul anymore. You wipe it from your face---is it even your face?---and it clears up your view. Men pointing and shouting. Men in hard hats and camo fatigues shouting incoherent phrases about objectives and talking to "God" on a two way radio. Another explosion rocks your very core and the whistling orange streaks continue to fly by like lasers with miniature megaphones attached. You have a slight pain in what you think is your foot. It's mostly cold and numb, squeezed by your too tight sock in too tight boots.

When you get close enough to where these men are pointing and shouting about, as bodies fall all around you like an invisible child pushing action figures over, you can see the tearing flesh of your peers of the barbwire surrounding your "objective". There are actually pieces of those not strong enough to over come latched on to the wretched steel for eternity. Stains that wont come off no matter how much water and soap is applied. Men behind you are shouting for their mothers because they know they have failed and she is the only one left who will tell them they have done a good job. Momma, Momma!

You feel yourself get tugged at by the metal of death but you push forward because your mind tells you to. Now that you are close you see fire. Flames jumping at you, almost as if in 3D. Flamethrowers. My god you are a sitting duck. A human piece of toast.

You can feel the small apple sized device in your hand. You pull something with fingers that are too busy shaking to feel what they've pulled and you throw with your best noodle arm. Another vicious explosion. You assume this one is your doing. How many people have you killed? How many more will you?

Then, as if the world comes to an end in front of your very eyes, everything stops. No more bullets. No more explosions. No more screams.

Silence.

You back up with caution, waiting for another command to send you into the arms of satan. You bump into a solid structure behind you, but with a little bit of give to it. Your finger, heavy now but noticeable still, presses down just the slightest bit on the curved agent of death. You turn around as fast as you can, even though it feels like it takes you a week. Facing you and looking into your eyes is the man you hate from the country you are told you have to accept. You stare deep into his eyes, and he stares deep into yours. It takes everything in you not to pull that trigger and end his life. You are told you must be together.

Then a voice, as if projected into your very core from the heavens above, says "let's get that briefcase and get out of this shitole!"

-------------------------

Chris wakes up, covered in sweat, knowing that he is about to go to war with a man he hates for the greater good of an establishment that for all intents and purposes "owns" him.

Looking into a mirror, he doesn't know what he sees anymore. It is all just destruction, death and screaming.

It is Chris Chaos and Gabe Reno--side by side again--with the entire world awaiting their success with baited breath.

Crowe and Maine, they are simply......well....collateral.

A war has to be fought one battle at a time.

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"So it looks like the time has come. Lethal Lottery is upon us. Now it is time to go to war for the greater good. The greater good is what is in that briefcase, and I plan to win it. But, that is a long way out. First, I have to get there. I have to team with Gabe Reno to do so. You've heard the old phrase, if you can't beat them, join them? Well in this case it is reversed. I have to join him to beat him. Anyone with half a brain has to know that we are the clear favorites here. We have to be. Look at the rest of the field. There are some solid individual competitors, but a bunch of shit teams. And, not only that, but through our battles, Gabe and I now know each other well. We gel, in a weird sort of way. It might be fine not tossing him around like a rag doll for once. I never stopped and thought about what we could be until right now. We have been so busy at each others throats, but neither of us stopped to think what fitting together like two puzzle pieces could create. So I let him put his little kid brain to use, and he came up with Iconolast. I'm with it, its unique. It fits us. And you know what, if playing Vinnie's little game gets me a shot at yet another major accomplishment here.....I will put up with Gave Reno. Think about it, Universal Champion AND Lethal Lottery winner. It is a poem that is meant to be written. If Gabe Reno helps me to get there, great. I just hope he holds his weight. He may be schizophrenic, honestly. You never know which Gabe Reno you are going to get. If I have to carry the team myself, I will. But if he comes and he brings his A game, I don't think there is a force on planet earth that can stop us. There certainly isn't in the XWF.

So I look at this first round matchup and I think highly of it. I mean, Shaun Crowe and Robert Main? Crowe was my first match here all the way back in August. Main, I haven't faced yet, but based on what I have seen from him I think I break out in bigger sweats taking a shit than I will stepping in the ring across from him. So, coast into the second round? Sure. why not. Consider this a warm up. I am fine with that.

Now I might as well address the elephant in the room. Not only did I break Gabe Reno damn near in half last week on Warfare, but he is also the number 1 contender as it stands for my Universal Title. Well Gabe, welcome to the club. I want to let you know that I don't trust you. I will have fun with you during this process, like we did before when we wreaked havoc in the Louvre, but I don't trust you until you prove to me I can trust you. My head has to be on a swivel here. That is fine, it is part of the job. Just know that I AM in fact watching you, Gabe, and if you get out of line I WILL put you in your place.

So Mr. Crowe, how will it feel to be absolutely embarrassed by me yet again? I mean, I didn't even know you were still alive much less employed. I thought for sure your mouth would have gotten you killed, throwing the N word around the way you do. I thought for sure you stumbled through the wrong hood and your Malibu's Most Wanted ass got popped. Well, let me tell you, when you step into my ring, that is the wrong hood. I will snap you in two like the twig you are. I am the best in the world at what I do........hell you aren't even good at sucking. I am not in the least bit worried about you, so why waste my breath? Every breath I take is precious.

Robert Main. Bad draw man, but that's part of the game. You may have had an opportunity to advance with any other partner, against any other team, but you drew snake eyes my friend. Shit ass partner and arguably the favorite's to win this whole damn thing. Do I feel bad? Of course not. I am going to run through the thing and not even have to take a shower. You see, I needed to know I could beat Peter Gilmour. I needed to know I could beat a legend here on with a long history of success. I needed to know I could win, not just survive. Now I know that, and now I am virtually immortal. You see, I am hungrier now that ever. I know I can beat top competition, I know I am the top champion in only a few short months.....now I am hungry for more. What else can I accomplish? What other feats can I surpass? It is what drives me. It is why I will be regarded as the best champion this company has ever seen. Book it now, and get your Polaroids ready. And Gabe, buddy......I know you want this belt. I know it eats you alive. But I need your ADD ass to focus on the task at hand. You have a shot at this belt whether you win Lethal Lottery or not. You need to focus on getting us the Tag Team belts. Because if you slip up once, JUST ONCE, you WILL be........what's the word I am looking for?

Oh yeah...…

EQUALIZED."

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XWF RECORD:22-4-2
XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION 1X (CURRENT)
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