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Rumbling up and down stairs. The anger consumed everything about me. I had to find him. Sizzling to the touch with a temperature for Chaos. If I didn't find him soon I would end up crackling, maybe implode; self destruct. That's how much the hate had taken hold of me. Scorching any valid reasoning from my brow. Deadly, either for him, or for me. Boiling over into something I wasn't prepared to handle. Neither was he. It had laid dormant for months as we tried to work together. Best of this, together in that, buddies through what appeared to be a comical arrangement we both wanted to explore. We felt alive. Singles matches made us who we were, but we knew that already. When you're a lone wolf you tend not to play well with others. A fact we gleefully ignored as the first round of Lethal Lottery was announced, and though forced, the confidence in victory grew. A perfect story of what we COULD HAVE overcome to get to the final... and win the whole damn thing. Instead, standing with our dicks in our hands and watching four other people take what should have been ours. AND WHY? HOW IS IT that we found ourselves face to face in such a predicament? Because Chris Chaos... let his petty vindictive bullshit lure him into matches with nobodies. He heard his name, and he reacted. He didn't think of US. He thought of... HIM. That selfishness will be the reason he pays a price. Giving up what is so precious to him in the midst of a smoking furious storm. That storm... is me.
I remember,
the first time I met Chris Chaos.
The name had been thrown around by amateurs. "This guy is taking over" one of them whispered to another, while putting gear on to open the preshow while pretending not to notice the relentlessness that goes into him even preparing for a match. He was so meticulous on the other side of that locker room. Tights, knee pads, tighten, double check, boots laced up, stomping the heels on the cement floor to make sure they would hold up, anything and everything to be on the level. Ready for war. That was one of the things that made me rethink this solo act. I thought to myself 'maybe a guy like that would be a pretty good addition'. Little did I know, he was on the other side of the locker room thinking the same, only I was doing my yoga, then push ups non-stop, calling each passerby a bitch in a new and creative way. He got a kick out of it. I felt like we were sleepless in Seattle.
Both in a never ending pursuit to prove something because of the massive chips we each had on our shoulders. We new that a mutual team would be inconvenient at first. Though, when it came down to performing in the brightest lights, neither of us had a doubt about the other.
That's how it started.
To understand the full situational validity of this match and its outcome, there are many things to consider. The past, present, and future. The past was once bleak. Racism, violence, wars, and famine dictated a lost society that left us all in a state of Chaos. While the great ones were stunned with disbelief and rage; he snuck in through a back channel and pinned a two-bit paper Champion. When it all comes down to it, Chris Chaos is a lot like the 'Average Joe'. He starts off with good intention, makes a few inquiries, then bails when shit really gets hard; or when the stench from Lethal Lottery Round 1, because too awful to remember, creeps back in until the same smells activates the disappointment deep inside his brain? From worthy advisary, to tough foe, then respected Champion, to best friend, loyal comrade...
Partner.
He had it all, in my eyes. Admiration for miles on a road paved with precious moments and long lasting promises. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, kids wanted to grow up to have hair... like his. And then... it happened. The smiles in the crowd turned to frowns. The friend I admired became the black sheep of the family. In love and war, you learn things about how people respond. In loving my partner I learned that he was a caring guy, little rough around the edges, but generally electrifying. In our previous battles I learned not to underestimate someone who always has a 'Plan B'. This war... this is different. He isn't that anymore. I have to come to terms with that. The man we all looked up to may be gone... forever. You know, I would love to play the 'I told you so'; say that I saw this coming and it was all a part of some grand scheme to take the Universal crown. But it wasn't. The Iconoclast was a symbol of being more than an individual. It was what true icons would hang their hat on as a penance from there on forward. We all knew that would not last. We just had no idea, that Chris Chaos would turn into a straight... BITCH.
From then on...
Things would only erupt.
Like a volcano.
It became explosive. The burning red magma was rising through the cracks in the surface of our team. Pressure building at every turn, more and more every show that passed. Finally, all that pressure... erupted. In a way that could never be extinguished. Or reasoned down off the ledge. The magma jolted out. All the pent up aggression, all the trash talk, all the situations and matches... too much to contain. Smoking in the back of my subconscious. Smoldering within my fists as I clinched and knew that the only way to handle the vast feeling of betrayal was to face it. No more excuses. No benefit of any doubt. Chris Chaos has become what he always was, the only difference was... I finally came to terms. Enemy. My face was overcome with a crimson blush. Eyelids raised only to show the bloodshot desperation to end a man that had broken a final straw. I found myself in a blind rage searching every arena we entered to perform in from top to bottom trying to find this ghost of a man who refused to face me. Like a coward. Like someone who had already lost.
☆
D . E .V. I . L
She looked down at me standing taller than most men I'd encountered. A tortured stare in the harmony of her gaze. I had heard the stories. About how blonde haired men she hated, because they stood for all that had oppressed her in life. Her village and its slaughtered ambitions. Families separated and made to hate. All by blonde haired white men. The first time I showed her a Chris Chaos' photograph she turned away and crossed her arms. Like so many women to Chaos before this; she turned the other cheek with scorn. I waited for her to recover, and I tried again. A picture of him winning a prolific match on Warfare. Months ago. She started to turn away, then something stopped her. In the background you can see me pumping my fist to commemorate his win. Supporting the man who would become my fellow Icon. And sworn enemy. She recognized the pain in my eyes now, compared to then. A reflection in my pupils that could only mean one thing. You've been stabbed in the back. You've been made to be less by a man who knows it from experience. Because he is exactly that, less.
Help me help you.
The Amazonian madam looked at me for minutes. She kissed me and swore to protect me. Her lips were strong. Her will unbreakable. We made sweet love. She tossed me around dominating me for hours. Her tongue was like a pleasure python. Breasts like the pointed peak of a mountain. Hips like a Volvo, just waiting for a test dummy to penetrate. Her holding me, rocking me like a newborn babe. Reminding me that the blonde white devils have been having their way in this world hundreds of years over. And that it was time to do something about it. Her name was "Grace". I squinted at her laying naked with a half sheet over my bare bottom. I toed up her calves as she told me the history that defined her. About "the blonde devil". It had come in the middle of the night. With pitchforks and torches. She would cry, then pull me closer to her bosom. She kept spelling out the word "devil". D... for how 'Deranged' it was to rape every man and woman in the village. E... for when they fell to their knees to beg for their lives on the blood soaked 'Earth'. Then she got to V... and would skip it. I... for the 'Internal' struggle of wanting to save her family, but knowing it would only get them killed faster to act. And L... for the sense of 'Loss' that she truly could not describe, but communicated still somehow through the way she loved me; with hesitation... but aggression. I asked her again, about the V. What did it stand for? After so much reflection and thought had been put into the other letters years after the slaughter, I thought prodding further would be okay. I was wrong. She asked me to look at the picture of Chaos one more time. I reached over my abandoned boxers that had been torn to shreds through a passionate bullying not long before. There is was. I handed it to her. Pain. Immediate regret that she ever asked for it. She got up and started speaking in some language I didn't understand. But her body language, I could. Pacing back and forth in the small room. She put her fist through a wall, then fell to her knees in an emotional tangent. Finally, she said it.
V... is for 'Vicious'... for the way he failed to see how wonderful he had it. He didn't have to hurt any of us. We would have showered him with love... like you. But... he wouldn't listen. He was so self-centered... so... so...
I pulled her arm and whipped her around, face to face with me, lips to lips, nipple to nipple. She didn't want to say what deep down with both realized in that single instant. SO I did...
Chaotic?
She looked at me in shock, as we both knew the truth. No one had ever understood her on this level before. Hell, no one had me, either. It wasn't just the reminder of a blonde haired man who had lead a raid on her village into eternal damnation. The eruption of emotion, the similarities, the unmistakable volume from the right conditioner... it all added up to one thing. Chaos. We shared the same internal strife. The same wherewithal to end this man once and for all. So I hired her... to come to the ring with me at Lethal Lottery. She insisted. Once I explained what wrestling was, and all the things that had led up to this. She felt it was her birthright to get this vengeance on the 'devil'. And I felt, like Champion.
☆
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