Immediately Following Savage:

Chris, with the help of Bruce and Jenny, was gingerly being led out of the arena and to his awaiting Jeep. Peter Gilmour was in the ring as the NEW XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, but Chris did not know this. Chris barely knew where he was.

He had dominated Gabe Reno a little earlier on, but in the young-guns desperate defensive effort Chris feels like he may have gotten concussed. The florescent lights burned his retinas.

His face was caked with dried blood and his hair was a carrot color, where the blood mixed with the golden follicles coming off of his scalp. It was clear to everyone what had just happened. He had just been through a war.

And he had won.

But he had to admit---even though it pained him---Gabe Reno was a tough motherfucker. The radical one sure can hold his own when he needs to. He either has a lot of guts or no brains, or both. Kicking out the way he did. Chris could have, would have and should have killed him out there. He respected the drive and the will to win that Gabe had. Now he could only hope he brought that same passion, intensity and focus to Warfare. Chris didn’t wanna say he needed him this week but---ahh hell, alright, he needed him. Trax and Bourbon alone is a suicide mission.

Jenny broke off from holding Chris up on her side and sauntered over to open the double metal doors, leading to the back parking lot. Opening it Chris winced as immediately he was bitten by the icy November Wisconsin air.

“I’ll drive tonight, Champ” said Bruce as Jenny got back over to him and put his arm over her shoulder again.

“No No No No No Bruce, I am fine. I don’t want to be catered to, I want nobody taking pit-”

“I insist my man. You lay back and relax, you’ve just been through hell.”

“No, I’m fine.”

The two bickered back and forth as they got outside. Chris did feel a little woozy, but that was expected. Otherwise, he felt great. Energized. He can’t believe at this moment that he had ever doubted himself. That was the most disappointing thing of all.

But this week would be different. This week essentially didn’t matter. His conference championship game was just an hour ago, and his Super Bowl was the Pay Pr View.

This coming week was just foreplay.

This coming week was just a chance to soften up two of the competitors he would face in the brutal Elimination Chamber. This coming week was to get a feel for the talent he would be up against---two men with big names and even bigger egos. Two men who actually thought they had any shot at Wildcard Card Weekend. Perhaps they suffered from a mental disorder of sorts?

Getting to the Jeep, Chris snatched the keys from Bruce at the last second. “I am driving. I refuse to be catered to, Bruce. I knew what I was getting into. I am the one who wanted an extreme rules match. I made my own bed, now let me lay in it.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head before saying, “Okay, you drive, champ. But if you kill me I am going to haunt you until the day you die.”

“How does a coma sound?” Chris said with a smile.

All three got into the Jeep and the white reverse lights came on.

PRESENT DAY

Chris pulled out his LGV10 smartphone and began scrolling through the contacts. He was beginning to believe he would never be back in the paradise known as Clearwater Beach. Every week was the same thing. Hotel after hotel, shitty room service after shitty room service. Life on the road wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t ideal. Once he became the Universal Champion he would demand more shows closer to home—he would have that kind of pull.

Finding Gabe Reno’s number in there, he hesitated for a minute. He had done hideous and heinous things to that man to defend his Wild Card. Hell, Reno probably wasn’t even out of the hospital yet. If he was, he was probably bruised more than just physically.

The decision was made and he hit send. The ringer rang continuously but there was no answer. He knew being on the same page as Gabe would be difficult now. He knew that luring him into a false sense of security by being cordial with him during their last Warfare Promo was probably a shitty thing to do---but nobody ever said he was an angel. Hell, many people thought of him as Satan himself. Soldier and Doc should be praying to Chaos, because pretty soon he will be the only God-figure I n the wrestling business.

Fuck leaving a voicemail.

Chris hit end, and the call was dropped.

Reno was a tough little bastard, Chris found that out. He may not like Reno---in fact he thinks he is an undeservedly pompous douche---but he couldn’t lie when he said he had a newly gained respect for the kid. Nobody kicks out of the Equalizer, and Gabe kicked out of 3. He put that kid through the ringer, and even the fact that he plans to show his face to have Chris’s back on Warfare shows he is a hard-bodied fighter. Chris respected that.

Just as he was about to put his phone down and take a well-deserved nap, he felt his phone buzz. Reno’s number popped up in text message.

Reno: What do you want?

Chris: Still a little salty, are we? I told you I was going to hurt you, kid. It is just business, nothing personal.

Reno: Yeah, nothing personal.

Chris: Look, I don’t need to be your friend. I don’t even want to be, but I do need a solid favor from you this week.

Reno: And that would be?

Chris: I need you to buy into the chaos. I need you to get on the same page as me, and we can rule this place. We put Savage behind us and work towards a future of chaos and mayhem with us holding all the gold this business has to offer.

Reno: And if I don’t?

Chris: I’ll bury you with the rest of the bodies.

Reno took a few minutes to text back. Constantly, Chris saw “Reno Is Typing….” then it would disappear, then come back. If he wanted to keep his tongue he knew enough to hold it.

“Reno Is Typing…..”

Finally, after what felt like a millennium, Reno’s message came through.

Reno: Meet me at the Louvre in 1 hour. Come alone.

Although skeptical, Chris admired the chaotic potential of this situation. Hell, if he wanted to tear up Paris and go round 2, that would be fine. If he wanted to meet to discuss strategy, that is fine also.

This was Chris’s first trip to Paris since Under The City Lights pay per views in Phoenix Wrestling. He had spilled blood in this city and his blood had been spilled here.

Paris was truly chaotic.

1 HOUR LATER

Chris walked in the light drizzle that often accompanied the late fall season in Paris. The rain felt good, there was something in the rain---something in the mist.

Looking around he didn’t see many people out and about. The Louvre was in a weird section of town and at 1 am on a Tuesday there weren’t many tourists snapping photos and overeating.

The Louvre was lit up bright, however, standing there in the middle of the square in all it’s radiant glory. One of the most famous buildings in the world and Chris was 100 yards from it. Something about that made him tingle a little.

The atmosphere around the Louvre was damp, and dark. Puddles sploshed under his shoes as he walked, shadow’s engulfed him as they fed off the energy of the dim street lamps. If Reno wanted to attack him here, he could, and Chris wouldn’t see it coming. For the first time in his career, the chaos was out of his hands.

After looking around, he was about to give up and say fuck it, when he noticed a dark figure standing against a wall in a back alley behind the building. He had a hood over his head, and his leg bent back---his foot on the wall of the structure behind him. His hands were in his hoodie pocket. The man appeared to be over 6 feet tall—but at this time of morning in this weather his all black attire made that hard to tell.

“Gabe?” Chris said out loud, his breath could be seen in the chilly almost-winter air. The man didn’t answer, continued looking straight ahead.

“Gabe?” Chris asked again, getting frustrated. The man in the hoodie turned to look at Chris. It was Gabe Reno. Chris clenched his fist, expecting the younger man to run at him in a fit of rage. That didn’t happen. Instead, he spoke.

“I didn’t think you would come. I thought guys like you are above guys like me" there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I mean, we are, but you are my tag partner this week. We need to go over game plan.”

“Here is the game plan---I’ve bought into the chaos. Follow me.”

There was a door next to him that he wiggled open. Blinding florescent lights forced Chris’s eyes to adjust.

“What exactly are you planning and where exactly are we?” Chris asked, looking around and seeing paintings and murals on the wall, wrapped in plastic.

“We are in the storage room for the Louvre”, said Reno, “we are going to have a little fun.”

Walking past the door and into the main gallery, Reno’s voice went to a hushed whisper.[/color] “We are going to have a little fun in this Louvre tonight before our big match. We are going to perform a piece of art, a masterpiece in that ring. Why not come to the number 1 art gallery on the planet?”

Chris nods, “a metaphor….you’re learning.”

“Not just that,” Reno said, “we are going to rob it.”

Chris’s mouth opened. “Gabe, this place is locked up like Fort Knox. There is security everywhere, Are you trying to watch Warfare from a jail cell?!”

“Are you going soft on me, Chris?”

Chris shook his head. Gabe just called his bluff. He fucking just called his bluff.

“What is the plan?”

“You distract the guards…..I am taking the Mona Lisa.”

“YOU ARE IN INSANE”

“I am chaotic.”

Chris shook his head and sighed. “Tell me how to do it.”

"I will distract the guards, you run in and grab it and we run out."

“That is a death sentence. There are guards you can’t even see, and they have guns.”

“Are you telling me you are scared, Mr. Chaos?”

Chris was pondering his options. This mission was suicide.

Fuck it.

Reno ran towards the Mona Lisa as alarm bells rang out………..Chris jumped out and began doing jumping jacks.


TO BE CONTINUED

XWF RECORD: 12-2-2