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Chris Chaos · (07-19-2018)

The air was a sticky hot, but not because of humidity but because of the heat caused by exertion. Small effort noises coupled with the hum of the crickets and the sound of the steel hitting the dirt.

Thud

Thud

Thud

The dirt thrown behind in a pile, quickly rising. A wife beater teeshirt, once bright white, now an off-white from sweat. Stuck to skin. Wet palms gripping the polished wooden handle. A "hrrmph" associated with each push into the thick brown earth. A dust cloud formed above the pile, the dust moved from the earth with such force.

Breaths, pants. There was an still silence around the cemetary. As if the other stones were watching in horror as one of their own was being gutted. It was almost as if they were judging.

Silently judging.

Silent screams.

Finally, a louder thud. The box. Brushing it off, you can see it already has some wear and tear from being in the ground.

Wet, stained hands caress the box, playing with the locks. They were tight, so the shovel hit those those, too.

The top opened, and inside lay a ghastly sight. Coughing, its hard to even look. The smell burns a hole through your nostrils and is so foul you can taste it on the back of your throat.

Maggots crawled around the waxy skin, and the hair was as thin as dental floss now. Deteriorating, the beginning stages. The lips and mouth were covered as well, and the hands were almost fully down to skeleton bone. The finger nails had been chewed off.

You didn't wanna do it, the smell was too much, but you leaned in closer. Those eyes. Those eyes were still preserved. Staring straight ahead, empty, deep.

A hint of fear in them.

Pulling the body out of the wooden box it is heavier than anticipated. Sitting it up against a tree, kneeling next to the open dirt.

Talking, lightly at first, but gradually increasing.

"Last year I was so close. I was a fingertip, literally, away from becoming the briefcase winner and stopping the Jim Caedus era before it even began. I was so close I could taste it. It was me and Jimmy boy trading punches, and he got one more in that me. I didn't get the job done that night, I'll admit it. Second best isn't what I came here to be. It is unacceptable. I have sat back in the shadows, picking my spot, waiting for the Robert Main's and the Robbie Bourbon's to get it out of their system. Things seem to have simmered down now on the XWF airwaves, so let me spread a little truth to all of you and maybe make sense of all of this.

Robert Main is so butthurt, he makes Richard Simmons feel jealous. I think he showed a lot of composure holding it all in and not flying off the handle....maybe he is less like his idol than I thought. But then again, maybe you are. You sat there and tried to justify your little coddle session--err title reign--by claiming you wrecked Peter Gilmour. You didn't wreck Peter Gilmour, a life of 11,000 calories a day wrecked Peter Gilmour. Everyone on this roster, even those sharts in BX3, have a case against Peter Gilmour. You want to bring a little justification to your reign, try using a better example. You're a paper champion with your head in the clouds who hasn't faced real competition because management is trying to keep their roster numbers up. We don't need Main walking out again. As long as you have that gaudy pink and white strap across your unwashed waist, Main is fat and happy, so to speak. Look at your title defenses outside of Peter, Robert. You took the Hart Title from Imperial back in December, an have faced literally nobody since. It took you nearly a month to defend the damn thing, and when you did it was in an X-Treme rules match with your Apex buddy Drew Archyle versus McBride and Gilmour, the two most over hyped nobodies in this history of this company. Mezian, please. Erik Black, I think we all know what he turned out to be. Rain and Snow. Can I start laughing yet? Pestalance, the man whose about to get knocked back to the civil rights era in a few nights by Engy. Azrael Erebus, the man/thing who has lost nearly every match they've been in since their return. You call it ruling with an iron fist, Main, I call it being protected. I call it being looked out for. You're the definition of a paper champion. You're the golden boy. You want to use girls as an analogy, Main? Here is a more appropriate one. You've never fucked a ten, ever, but one night, you fucked 5 twos! That should count, right? That is what it feels like. You are over here beating up on nobodies while I am competing with and beating the best the entire business has to offer. You want me gone, big boy? You're gonna have to do it yourself and you haven't proven to anyone that you have the stones.

You joined APEX because you needed that cover. You needed that shelter. By yourself, you're vulnerable. You're a fish who lost his school, and I am the shark prowling the waters. You needed the ability to hide in the crowd, to blend in, to be the face of the faceless. I am brash, obnoxious, and I have a dominant personality. I know this. I have to be in the spotlight all the time, in the limelight, I have to be the top. That is why we are different. That is why I am constantly in the main events, in all the headlines, why my face is in every show. Call it a condition, call it a sickness, but I have to make sure people understand that Chris Chaos is back and better than ever. You have successfully made it so that the Hart Title has all but faded away. When is the last time you were in a main event? Do you even remember? You've held a second rate title and kept it second rate. At least when I held the TV title I created some excitement around it. Main, you couldn't get a 12 year old girl on a sugar rush excited. So bland, drab, and dark. Nobody wants to see that shit, or hear it. You don't have the killer instinct to be the best. You can't take a show over by just showing up. When Chris Chaos walks in the door, people know shit is about to get uprooted. When you walk in the door, people say "Hi, Robert!" and go about their day. You don't command that attention, don't command that present. You needed to badly to be in AX3, then I killed it. You needed to be in APEX, then I killed it. The only one left to kill is you. I beat Archyle down to within an inch of his life. I took of Caedus. Now the bullseye is on you, big guy. Do something about it. You won't because you can't.

Also, if you want help, don't look to Micheal Graves. Begging for help is weak sauce to begin with, but if you are going to suck dick for rent money make sure it is a suitable establishment you're paying for. Graves is a broken down flat in the slums, but you're painting him to be a penthouse on the beach. Graves is a loser, and his entire career is based around being a loser. He is 46 years old with nothing but scars to show for it. He was a friend of Jim's and yours. Sure. But was Jim really a friend? Jim Caedus used you guys. He put together a collection of people who he felt were below him so he could be better by comparison. It is like the hot cheerleaders who hang out with ugly friends. They are insecure on the inside and need to be the one who looks good all the time so they take advantage of other people and their need for friendship. Jim was all about himself, and always had been. It was the one thing I admired about Jim. He pulled you guys in, hook line and sinker, but do you think when the shit hit the fan he would be the one to go to war for you? No. He needed you to handle his light work so he rode you like a 10 cent pony and I took him out before he could dispatch you. I did you a favor Main! I saved your widdle heart from being crushed. You want to idolize him as a God, but he gave about as much shit about you as the Catholic's believe their "God" does about them.

The Son's of Anarchy Extra Said:I don’t give two shits., a fuck or a damn if there are 100 cases hanging from the rafters! I don’t want a god damn case!

Then why even bother? I am coming for that case, I don't care if I have to kill for it, and I am going to cash it in on Engy and win the Universal Title that was STOLEN from me. All the pieces have fallen into place. I took of Reno, I took out Caedus...one by one the domino's are falling. Do you really think I am going to let someone keeping Dolly's title warm for her while she goes through puberty stop me? You aren't the Omega, Main, you've been the Beta your entire career. That is all you will ever be.

Peter Gilmour has been silent. Probably has a mouth full of food. Usually, we can't get the dude to shut up. I remember the road trips we took to the different shows when we were tag team champions. My god! All the stories of the competitive eating competitions and how he gets erections in grocery stores! Everyone has their thing, I guess, and Peter's is food. Holy hell. I can't blame him, I like a good meal every now and again. Peter, just stop. I am giving you a word of advice as a former partner of yours. Just stop. Just hang it up. Just quit while you still have a microscopic shred of dignity. Just pull a Robert Main and walk out on us. Give us the memories of Gilmour we can laugh and joke about over a few beers instead of a living, breathing--though barely--reminder of Peter Gilmour that we can laugh and joke about over a few beers. In fact, you really want to be remembered? Tye the noose Peter, and step off the stool. You'll get some sympathy votes from the overweight women in the crowd, for sure. Hell, you may even get a rememberence piece on Oprah! Ellen would be all over it. You want to matter around here, Peter? End it all.

Just my advice.

Azrael has been quiet, too. Perhaps there was a bad transmission? Houston, we have a problem! This spaceman is a tough read. One day, he will be sticking his nose in everyone's business and trying to convince people that life on Mars is the way to go, and the next day he is quieter than a Charlie Chaplin movie---with equally bad quality. Azrael is the epitome of what happens when the old heads try to take over the new era. He is like the gumpy old man who sees these millenials on their phones and shakes his fists saying "you hooligans!". He expected to come back and have things be the way they were, but now that I am here things will NEVER be the way he remembers them. This is my company, and if I decide I don't want him in it I'll take him out just like I do everyone else. For someone who claims to have powers, he sure doesn't show it. He talks like he could snap his fingers and BOOM! Apocalypse. What his real power is.....losing high profile matches. He's shown that skill with flawless perfection. He is the wild card in this match, he is the long shot. But I am a betting man, and I want to wager that when the lights shut off in DC he won't even be in the discussion. He'll be the horse in the race that's still running. Prove me wrong.

Graves, what happened buddy? So outspoken, filled with so much hate and rage towards me, hell I'd think you and Main were twins. You've been silent. I understand that when you get older, things get harder, but I figured you could come up with SOMETHING more to say. Maybe a cat got your 46 year old tongue? Maybe its cotton mouth? Maybe you have nothing more to say because the sale on New Balance sneakers is over and your Lawn Mower is running great. You're a house-dad, Gravy. You should be retired somewhere in East Bumfuck West Virginia yelling at people driving too fast down your street from your lawn chair in the driveway. You should be collecting social security and bitching about cable prices going up. You don't belong anywhere near a wrestling ring. You're a broken down old car still trying to sputter your way through the race, but the rest of the cars are passing you by. You're trailing so far behind the race you are almost off camera but you always have an excuse. You failures are always someone else's fault. Your optimism is admirable but you can only cry wolf so many times before people begin to ignore your voice all together. For me, that moment happened a long time ago. I stopped taking you seriously a long time ago. Newsflash, so did everyone else. All you AX3 fuckers are the same. You need a fall back option because you can't do it on your own. In your case, its Cadryn. He is your ace in the hole. You treat him like an ace, anyway. He's a joker, he has claimed that himself, but you treat him like he completes your flush. Everything you say now is just a long winded explanation of how Cadryn's dick tastes. It's gross and off putting actually. Pretty sure you're loose, flappy mouth skin makes the Cereal Killer feel pretty damn good though!

So now, I have your idol here, your golden boy, your chosen one. I have him here and I am going to show you all just how gone he really is. This is the Chris Chaos Era.......nobody is safe.

Just as Chris was about to get to Robbie Bourbon, the corpse fell, created a dull thud and causing some dust to fly. Chaos then takes the headstone of Jim Caedus and stomps it, causing the top of it to crack. With a smile, sick and twisted, he brought the shovel to the neck of Jim.......

Fade to black

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