Wednesday July 27 19, 2016
3:15 AM

It’s interesting to watch, really. Life, completely engineered and controlled by human forces, living in their own world with completely no knowledge of the outside world. Living beings that only know one way of life and are content to live it that way---through ignorance over any other reason. Their bliss is man made, and their life is 100 percent dictated by the actions of a higher being on the chain of life. When something can live in complete peace and harmony, oblivious to the violence, devastation and destruction of a cold world around it. Also to live in harmony outside of life’s natural order. Beings that wouldn’t survive in a kill or be killed world, wouldn’t live a day without their artificial habitat. Life at its truest, purest and happiest, and the farthest thing from natural. An atmosphere, and entire world, and they are just happy as can be. Not a care in the world.

Staring at his 50 gallon tank, the man known as Chris Chaos is in deep thought, almost mesmerized by the site of something he sees every day of his life.

These creatures would be nothing if I did not allow them to be, but I have chosen to give them a good life. They are healthy and content. If I didn’t set the tone for their existence, who knows where they’d be. I bought them, I bought their home, their toys----I paid to give them a clean atmosphere to live in, to make sure the filtration system is proper. They are like family—I feed them, provide living space—I am like a father to them.

He stood up off the foot of the bed, bending down to grab the orange cylinder containing the goldfish flakes. He opened the top and looked in. Noticing this, and knowing it was time for food, they floated to the surface, mouth up, and sucked at the surface of the water. The fish looked him straight in the eye---with their wide, almost pleading eyes---opening and clothes their mouths with an audible glub glub.

Without him, they would starve. They would shrivel up and die. Their little insides would wither practically to nothing and they would suffer greatly before they finally perished. All of their awesome orange color would dissipate and they would be nothing but grayish white shells of what once was. He screwed off the cap of the food bottle.

You rely on me for food, and I’m gonna feed you little buddies.


Chaos is everywhere.

It is unavoidable, it is within all of us. It is the nature of our being, without it we could not exist, could not thrive. Without chaos, both here and overseas, there would be no United States. Europe would be speaking German, the rest of the world Japanese, and the balance of order and establishment that we all know and love as the world of the 21st century would be a spiliring ball of non existent bullshit.

Chaos is essential.

The nation that XWF has decided to visit for their Wednesday Night programming this week, Ethiopia, was in a state of civil and financial unrest. All of the nations around them were falling, their governments overthrown, their people in protest. Poverty, death and destruction everywhere. His kind of place.......and now, he can add Shaun Crowe to that list.......oh how good it felt

1 week prior, July 20th, 2016
3:57 PM

The moorings of the fishing boat were pulling as a slight breeze pushed the massive vessel in a swaying motion. Funny how the littlest breeze can move a 2 ton boat on the water.

Chris, a deckhand on the Double Eagle fishing charter out of Clearwater, Florida, grabbed the giant buckets with the fish stringers and slid it to the front.

Kids, smiling and happy, and parents tipsy and also happy, made their way off the vessel, making sure they "watched their step". Chris no longer had an opinion of these people. Years ago, he would have joked to himself about a stupid shirt a father wore or the moronic sandals he allowed his son to wear. Seriously, do you not want him to get laid until he is 30 and live off World of Warcraft and Cheetos in your basement?

Anyway....

When everyone was off the vessel, Chris began to pull the stringers out of the ice bucket and call out numbers---throwing them off and onto the concrete below when they were claimed.

Today's haul wasn't bad. Key West Grunts, Mangrove Snapper, a few keeper Groupers. Not a shabby day by any means.

As he poured the ice out over the top of the numbered stringers, he began to filet them. 25 cents per fish, but it adds up. Plus the drunk fathers usually tip him 10-20 dollars for keeping their kids entertained for a day. Not bad. Not a wrestling paycheck, but then again what is?


"Mister.....Mister!" a voice, shrill as a fingernail on glass broke his routine. "Hey mister!"

Turning his head to look at the little shrew who was currently agitating him, he saw a little boy standing there with a phone far too advanced for his age and intelligence level. Great parenting.

"Yeah kid, whats up?"

"Can I get a picture to send my mommy before you cut ours?!" Good lord, the kid still used the term 'mommy' and he had a nicer phone than he did!

"Sure kid, but your's are still under the ice. When I pull your stringer up, you can get a photo before I cut".

Wiping his brow on this humid 90 plus degree day he went back to cutting the Gag Grouper laid out in front of him.

Then, as if summoned by the bowels of hell, it struck again.

"Can't you just do it now? I want to text her the photo!"

It took every ounce of strength not to pick the kid up by his neck and throw him in the harbor.

"These people were here first, kid."

"My name is Brendan"

"Well, Brendan, these people were here first. I will do yours net but I need to cut theirs first".

"Come on, just do it!"

Chris looked at the filet knife in his hand and seriously contemplated.......

.......after about an hour, he was on his last fish. It was hot and he was spent. He couldn't wait to get back to his condo and put his feet up with a Corona and a nice cigar.

Then, as if this day couldn't get any more splendid, as black Mercdes C class hummed into the marina parking lot, coming to a stop a few slots down from where the vessel was moored. He knew that car anywhere. Bruce, his old boxing coach and now best friend, limbered out of the car--his age and bad knees not a good mix with the humid west Florida air.

Turning to look his mentor in the face he smiled, though sarcastically, as he bagged his last fish and received his tip. "To what do I owe this honor?"

--Chris had lost it all. He had been a multi-time holder of several different championships in the best Wrestling Federation on Planet Earth, Phoenix Wrestling. Until they had to close their doors for financial reasons a few years ago, nobody touched them. But, during his time there, Chris has had a fall from grace of sorts. Paranoia, greed, and selfishness eventually caused his down fall and made him a target. He ended up being injured and subsequently fired after several offenses with management. By that point, his life was a tailspin. His high school sweat heart and former USF cheerleader and magazine model had left him (he had missed, or narrowly missed, the birth of his child because he decided a World Heavy Weight Title match was more important), Bruce didn't talk to him after he broke into his house, beat him up and raped his girlfriend in front of him, and he now had no more checks coming in, no more endorsements and no more career. So he had come back home to Clearwater where he was now the lead deckhand on a fishing boat---

"Are you going to throw me in the harbor again? This is a very expensive suit."

"What do you want, Bruce? I am not in the mood for any more of your 'opportunities', I've had a long day."

"You will like this one. But I need to know where you are mentally."

Chris motions with his hand to his forehead "about fed up to hear with you, honestly."


"Chris....is this what you wanna do for the rest of your life? Do you wanna maybe get your ex back? Do you want to start earning more than some fucking tips?"

"What are you getting at" Chris huffed as he walked towards his truck. "This better be good, or your fired..."

"For the 100th time" Bruce rolled his eyes "but I promise you this is worth it."

Chris forcefully opened the door to his truck and got in, obviously not really giving whatever Bruce had to saw any merit. Slamming the door shut, he opened a window, putting on his sunglasses and letting his previously tied up hair down.

"Chris...What I need to know is if you are going to give another shot at life another chance. You weren't born to be a deckhand, didn't go through years or training to be a deckhand, don't spend 3 hours at the gym every night to be a deck fucking hand......"

Chris scoffed. "Are you done, Bruce? You don't like what I've become, fall from grace blah blah blah I've heard it all before. It doesn't phase me.

"Would you give wrestling another shot?"

Chris huffed and began to roll up the window, but Bruce stuck his arm in it to stop it.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm serious. I think I have found something for you. It is a company called XWF. X for X-Treme. We BOTH know that's right up your alley."

By this point the window was almost fully up with Bruce's arm still inside.

"Goddamnit Chris just listen....I Promise this is a good get for us.....awww...ouch......fuckkk.....roll it down!"

Begrudgingly, he rolls it down. "Bruce....I swear to god. If I get there and this is a bunch of bullshit nobodies......the only thing you will be booking in the future is your own funeral arrangements."

"I promise.....it's gonna be huge!"

++++++++++++++++++

"THIS........THIS IS WHAT YOU GET ME BRUCE!" Slamming the table, the thermal bottle holding his protein shake shook and almost tipped."AFTER OVER 2 FUCKING YEARS AWAY, MY BIG COMEBACK IS AGAINST THAT MALIBU'S MOST WANTED PIECE OF SHIT!"

Bruce looked nervous as Chris grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled them face to face.

" LISTEN TO ME YOU SEAN CONNORY LOOKING PIECE OF USELESS CRAP......I TOLD YOU WHEN I CAME BACK, IF I CAME BACK, I WAS COMING FOR THE TOP SLOT. I WOULD NOT, AND WILL NOT, JOB OUT. THIS IS OPENING CARD STUFF, BRUCE. I AM A MAIN-FUCKING-EVENTER!"

Chris takes a deep breath and appears to calm down, releasing Bruce's shirt.

"I am sorry, Brucie. Now, get on the phone and get me a Universal Title shot, and get me it NOW!"

"Chris....no. It doesn't work that way. I have been watching them for weeks. Frodo is not Slaine, Chris. He will not be pushed around by loud voices and harsh words. You are going to have to earn it here, the old fashion way."

Chris looked dead ahead at the baffoon with corn rows meandering like a zombie and speaking jibberish on the screen. He eyes narrowed.

"Oh, I'll earn it. I'll make this little wigger's night a living fucking hell. Have you booked the plane tickets?"

"That's another thing I need to tell you about....the event, where it is......"

He walked over and handed Chris his ticket. Chris stood up, smiled a sick smile. The door shut, and bashing and slamming could be heard.


+++++++++++

Present Time
9:08 PM EST
Clearwater Beach, Florida
Somewhere secluded.

"Shaun Crowe......you poor bastard. You must have pissed someone off in this company for them to debut me against you. Since you probably can't spell your name, hell you can't even spell boy right, you probably don't know exactly just who the fuck I am. My past doesn't matter, though you can look it up next time you google how much purple drank will overdose you. Open a new tab, and type in Chris Chaos. All you will see is title after title. Belt after belt. Win after win. I was a legacy in Phoenix Wrestling. I will be a legacy here too. I will run roughshod through this freakshow, and I will hold that belt over my head. People will be kissing my feet. Women will be naming their babies after me. Nobody will remember anything about you other than you lost to me in my debut and your stupid fucking hair.

Don't you realize how much of a joke you are? Don't you realize that fans laugh at you. Your own family laughs at you. Small children think you suck. You see, Shaun, I think you call yourself "YA BOI" because those are the only two words you can spell. The sheer fact I am facing you is borderline offensive to me, actually. I thought you were disposed of, but like a fucking wart you continue to come back again and again. I have to fly all the way to one of the most impoverished countries in the world to kick your ass.....but the positive part is that I get to do it on Frodo's dollar. When I kick your head off your shoulders, I will put you up in the equalizer, then again, then again. Why? Because I can. And because it is chaotic. I want to kill you, Shaun. And I damn near will. I have lost everything, I have two years of pent up frusteration to spent on you. I am sure nobody will mind. I am going to turn warfare on its ear. I won't bother giving you a history lesson on chaos in warfare, because you probably won't understand anything that doesn't involve a bong and cargo shorts."

"You are the epitomy of why wrestling is dying. I am here to bring it back. By taking you out and putting you on the shelf I will be doing a justice to anyone who ever watched wrestling. My quest to Scully and that belt begins with you. You should feel honored. I sure do. Apparently, I am told, there is another dude here named Chaos. He will get his due. For now, I am coming for Scully and I am going through, into and over you. You will be nothing short of roadkill. Hell they should feed your skinny ass to these Ethiopians when I am through with you. If I pin you 1-2-3 in the center of that ring, you should feel lucky. I am half tempted to rip out your stupid fucking cornrows and garrote you to death with them......consider your pinfall loss a favor. Shaun, prepare to be equalized"