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Chris Chaos · (05-12-2017)

OOC: For Reference to characters and events mentioned in this RP: Read "Memories" section of attached RP: http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=25815&highlight=sights

DEPOT

LATE NOVEMBER 2015

"Now get the fuck out of MY building!"

The words echoed through his head over and over like song played on loop. It was over. Just like that, it was over. Fired, in his hometown arena in front of his family and friends. People who had known him since he wore diapers--people who had only heard about him through local lore. They were all there in the St.Pete Times Forum that night, and they all watched everything he worked for come crashing to a end like a comet that got too close to the atmosphere.

Even though he wasn't aware of it at the time, Nicole was there. With Jason, of course, but Nicole nonetheless.

Slaine Roderick wasn't as blatent as some GM's were. He was much more coy, conniving, deceitful. He had made many business deals to keep his job, and his puppet champion William Bateman was going to be the champion for a long, long time. Why? Because it made Slaine look good. He was a well dressed, well groomed, well spoken man. He 'looked the part' of a champion. He was also a liar. Auora Jensen was his champion, she got all the pampering and protection, until he decided that William Bateman was the one the board of trustees would approve more. So he screwed over Aurora, put her on the shelf, and awarded the belt to William. There was no honor. The entire thing was a sham from jump-street. Slaine Rodderick, Orlando Holmes, and William Bateman, the three stooges. "The Pretty Boy Assassins". If his head didn't hurt so much, he'd puke.

Dragging his bag behind him, he shuffled his feet through the back corridors of the building he once played a state championship football game in. That seemed like an eternity ago, and quite honestly, like a totally different life. That was when he was sucessful, and it was the last "title" he truly felt he won.

Sure, Chris was the Freestyle Champion here 5 different times. He had the Armored Core title MADE FOR HIM, and held it 3 times, and was a 5 time Tag Team Champion and still would be if Mayhem didn't turn his back on Chris.

But that ever elusive world title........

He was a champion in football, in boxing, hell he even won a championship in Madden (yes, they have those and he was amazing with the Bucs--even though they suck in real life), but he was never able to win the title in professional wrestling. And what drove him the most mad was that he had the title WON numerous times, but the champions were always protected by management and someone who looked like Chris and was named Chaos wouldn't be a good fit for the image PW was looking for as champion. They didn't mind him being Freestyle (Intercontinental), but World Champ? Sorry kiddo....

The parking lot looked different knowing it was the last time he would see it.

Looking around for his car, it wasn't where he parked it. He had his keys in his bag, so nobody would have been able to steal it. Where the fu----

Did Slaine have it towed?! Not only did he have him set up, screwed, stripped of his title and fired in his hometown, but now he couldn't even get home.

With a sigh he turned towards the parking garage exit. He could hear the crowd cheering from inside the Times Forum. He could hear Bateman's music.

One man's trash is another man's desire, right?

The problem is that Chris was now the trash and he couldn't name a person on planet earth who desired him.

Stepping out into the Tampa Bay night, it was raining. Not unusual for November, but this was a cold rain. Colder than usual for this state. It was a hard rain.

He put his arm up, he may as well hail a cab.

Nicole couldn't take her hand off her mouth. Her eyes were wide, and her toes curled in her shoes. She hadn't been to a wrestling show previously, at least not one where Chris was actually in it.

Throughout high school they would watch wrestling together, Chris had introduced her to it, and after a little while she grew to enjoy it. Of course, she was more into the story lines and the drama than the actual action, but it was something to do.

It was their thing.

But this was different. she kept telling herself "wrestling is fake. This is scripted. Chris has to be in on this." But she knew him well enough throughout the years to know when something was really bothering him.

Chris had Orlando Holmes up in the Equalizer. He had dominated the match for the most part, and she thought she remembered hearing somewhere that if he won he would get a one on one shot at the champion with no outside interference allowed. She wasn't sure, but that is what she thought she remembered hearing.

She also thought she remembered hearing that if he lost, he was fired.

Probably just another storyline thing, he probably agreed to it.

Did he?

But then, it happened. Men, strange men who she had not seen for the entire show, entered the ring. They had weapons in their hands.

Oh god--were those---no---those weren't----lead pipes? What. The. Fuck.

One man went for the knee, and Chris collapsed. The black man he had up in his signature move fell down on top of him. The other two strange men then piled on. Chris had four people on top of him.

The referee began to count.

1.

2.

3.

The bell rang. That is when her hand went over her mouth. What now? Some music hit and a well dressed man walked to the ring. He had a clipboard in his hand, and a microphone.

"You knew the deal, Chris. We had an agreement"

The well dressed man took a piece of paper off the clipboard.

"You failed to beat Orlando, so now, I have to do what I have to do. A deal is a deal."

Oh, phew, it was a deal.

Was it?

Chris charged at the well dressed man, and one of the strange men hit him in the back with the pipe then again when he was down.

"This.....this is your contract. Consider it over."

He went to rip the paper. Chris lunged again, only to get a pipe to the back of the head again.

The well dressed man rips up the paper and dumps it on Chris.

"Now, get the fuck out of MY building........and MY company".

It has to be planned. It just has to be. Why would they wait until his home town to do this? Nicole had seen that look many times before, however. This was NOT scripted, not fake, this was real. Oh my god, this was real.

"I need to go talk to him" she said to Jason. He shook his head.

"Do you REALLY think that's a good idea?"

She looked at Chris as he stumbled down the ramp, not even bothering to lift his head.

"It is worth a shot. I'm probably the only one who can help him."

Jason had a grin on his face. He was enjoying this. Nicole got up in a huff, shaking her head at him.

---------He had his hand up, hailing a cab. The rain was making his shirt stick to his chest and his hair ratty, but he didn't care anymore.

He had no reason to anymore.---------

"To Clearwater Beach!" She said, out of breath. "750 Mandalay Avenue, Belle Harbor Condos." The taxi driver pressed two buttons on his built in GPS and with a tip of his cap put the Toyota Camry in gear.

The beach was his solace. After a night like this, he was surely going there. He had to. Where else did he have to go?

She was a bit panicked. Pulling out her phone, she dialed his number but got only a voicemail. Text messages were being delivered but not read. How could she allow this to happen? For some reason she felt like it was her fault.

Brett Sheldon's cab rolled down Channelside Drive in downtown. The St.Pete Times Forum and its blue lights were visible from almost a mile down the street. They made a good contrast with the moon light in the unusually heavy rain. He could see them both, and with a high and another sip of coffee it was just another night of transportation in Florida's third largest city.

As he pulled up to the arena, he could see a tall blonde man outside. At first, he wrote it off as a bum. The ratty hair and clothes were a signifying feature of a homeless person....but there was something in particular about this man that he recognized. Something about his face.

"Holy shit, that's Chris!" He said to himself. Brett and Chris went to high school together, and both played on the football team. After high school Chris went on to USF to play football but Brett took the party lifestyle to Hillsborough Community College. They had lost touch shortly after.

The cab damn near skidded to a stop. Chris opened the door slowly, and put his bag in. He shut in. Shutting it, he didn't even look up. He didn't say a word. What the hell had happened to him?

"Where ya headed?" Brett asked. Chris didn't say anything, just looked out the window at the rain.

"I don't care. Take me wherever you want."

"That isn't how this works. You gotta tell me an address."

Chris didn't even look up, he just stared out the window. It was over, all over. Everything he had ever worked for is over. Over.

Brett knew something was up, he had never seen Chris like this. He put the car into gear and rolled away from the Times Forum.

Knocking on the door with a fever pitch, she was getting worried now. He wasn't home? Why the hell wasn't he home? She was sure he'd be here. There was nowhere else to go.

Pulling back out her cell phone she dialed it again. It was ringing.

Oh My God, it was ringing!

Chris's phone rang as he watched the rain. Looking down with a sigh, it was Nicole.

Was Nicole there? Did she see this? he probably thinks he's even more of a loser now. For all he knew it was probably Jason calling from her phone to rub it in. He couldn't bare to answer it.

For the first time in his life, he hit IGNORE on a Nicole Dagastino phone call.

Brett looked throgh the rearview at the broken man in the back seat.

"Chris? Chris Jackson, from East Tampa, right?"

Chris looked up with sunken eyes, but said nothing. A small nod, however, confirmed these facts to be true.

"It's Brett, man. Brett Sheldon. We went to high school together. Remember? You went on to play football....."

Another small nod.

"Whattya doin leaving that arena tonight? You're a professional wrestler, aren't you?"

"And you're driving a cab", a snarky response.

"I am. Are you?"

"I was."

Brett got the hint.

"Come on, this is the last fare of the night. Come to the depot with me. Let's smoke a blunt and chill."

Chris just looked out the window at the rain as the cab passed through Ybor City.

"DAMNIT CHRIS".

Nicole wanted to scream. She came all the way down here to the beach, and he isn't here. Where the hell could be possibly be? All she needed to know what if he was okay. Walking back down and outside, she saw the cab driver still sitting there. He pointed to his watch and rolled down the window.

"Hey miss, my shift is over. I gotta go back up into Tampa. You stayin' here or you need a ride?"

She sighed, her hair matted to her face now as well. "I am going to stay here for a little. He will be back eventually."

She sighed again. Her phone rang.

Jason.

Chris walked around the Yellow Cab depot in North Tampa. He touched each car with his hands. They felt cold. Each one of them felt different too. Different bumps, scratches, chips and cracks. Each one was unique in its own special way. Each one had it's own story, too. That was facinating to him. What had happened to each one, where had they been, who had they seen? Who had seen them?

"Do you like this job?" Chris asked to Brett, just as the taxi driver had unbuttoned his vest and was putting a lighter to his blunt.

"It pays the bills" he said, inhaling and coughing. "Get to see a lot of different people, ya know? Sometimes it can be rewarding knowing you made someone's day."

Chris grinned. "It would be nice to be the guy people can rely on for once."

Brett handed the blunt to his old friend. Chris took a hit, inhaling without a cough, and blew out. Just as Chris handed the blunt back to Brett, the garage opened. Emilio Sanchez pulled in, the last Yellow Cab of the shift.

"Ahhh yeah man! You got the sticky! I had a weird day. Whose this?"

Chris nodded but inquired. This, for some reason, interested him. "How was it interesting?"

Emilio took the blunt from Brett.

"Well" puffing in and blowing out, "I had some pretty little lady leaving the Times Forum. She seemed to be in a rush. She was headed to the beach. I get that, it's a great beach, I figured she lived there. But she seemed to be looking for someone. Said she was staying there for a bit. So I left her and came back. She tipped well."

Chris damn near jumped off the little ledge they were sitting on.

"DID SHE GIVE YOU A NAME?!"

Emilio stepped back. "Whoa, whoa buddy. No, nor did she give me a phone number. Pretty little thing though, had quite the ass too."

Chris reared back and swung. He caught Emilio in the side of the head. Grabbing the man by the top of the shirt he threw him over the hood of the car.

NICOLE

"Brett.....I need to leave. Can you bring me to the beach?"

Brett grinned, hitting a new blunt due to his previous one being destroyed.

"Man this is the most energy you've had since I picked your ass up. This girl must mean something to ya.......here, old friend."

Brett tossed him the keys.

"You wreck it, you buy it."

Chris nodded, the first smile he'd felt in months. Getting into the car he programmed his home address in and peeled out of the garage.

OCTOBER 12th, 2016
Oslo, Norway
Wednesday Warfare

CHRIS CHAOS HITS DOC D'VILLE WITH A SPEAR JUST AS THE SARCOPHAGUS CRASHES INTO THEM BOTH, KICKING UP A CLOUD OF ANCIENT DUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dust begins to settle...

The crowd is restless, as the referees at ringside helplessly wait for visibility to return.

"DOOK-TER DEE-VIL!" CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

"DOOK-TER DEE-VIL!" CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

"DOOK-TER DEE-VIL!" CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

"DOOK-TER DEE-VIL!" CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP

Finallly, the dust dissipates enough to show a silhouette staggering away from the sarcophagus, which is closed and lying face down halfway buried into the concrete floor!

Oh my god!!!! Here comes Vincent Lane and some emergency crewmen, EMTs and security!

They all surround the collapsed coffin as Vincent approaches the dust covered silhouette and offers him a towel as well as one of the same cards he handed to Robbie Bourbon earlier in the night.

Vincent turns his attention back to excavating the sarcophagus and freeing the man inside as the silhouette wipes away the soot and grime from his face....

..... IT'S CHRIS CHAOS!!!!!

DR. D'VILLE MUST BE TRAPPED IN THE COFFIN!!!!!!!

Winner: CHRIS CHAOS

PRESENT DAY:

Chris walked through the old Yellow Cab depot. They had since moved to a newer location when they merged with Dollar Cab. He hadn't seen Brett or Emilio since that night. But he didn't care.

Walking through the dusty remains, he ran a finger across the old ledge that he sat on a few years ago. He needed to come back here. He needed to come back on this night. Doctor D'Ville was a depot, and this was the depot that kept him alive.

DOCTOR D'VILLE IS A DEPOT

He is the one that superstars use to springboard. He is the one that provides the transportation to the top. Win, lose or draw against Doc, and you are promised to be recognized. All you need to do is show up.

DOCTOR D'VILLE IS A DEPOT

He is where ascension begins. That's the cost of being good. That is the cost of being a legend. Eventually you will fall. The longer you are around, the more of a depot you become.

DOCTOR D'VILLE IS A DEPOT.

The Doctor of XWF has ben reduced to an object used by others. He doesn't do it for himself, even though he thinks he does. He is nothing without his "customers". Without the people who use him for their own personal gain, he is just another face in the crowd, just another warehouse on the street.

DOCTOR D'VILLE IS A DEPOT

As Chris opened the old creaky door to the dispatch office that once was, he picked up the old walkie radio. He thought about how he was the one who needed a ride almost a half a year ago. He thought about how the Doctor got the call.........he ran the walkie through his fingers. Without that ride, Chris wouldn't be where he is right now. It was that ride when he needed it that got him here......and it was only fair that he returned here again. An old, worn out depot was all that was left. Old, worn out, useless.......

DOCTOR D'VILLE was going to lose again......and this time, maybe, just maybe, Chris was going to be the one to give him the much needed ride. Doc was too blind to see it, too stubborn to hail a cab of his own........

Sometimes, you need to take a chance.

Chris was back, for the final time, to burn this depot to ground.

To burn Doctor D'Ville's "legacy" to the ground.

A small candle lit the room. Chris sat in the old Taxi Depot that was now abandoned. In the candle light you could still see the dispatch booth in which he sat.

"Doc, I had nothing when I came here. My life was in a tailspin, and it wasn't just in the wresting world. Every facet of my life was in the shit-house before Bruce introduced me to the XWF. I had a large resume, but never had "the big one" on there. Never had the world title on there. It was a resume that was good, but it wasn't elite. Even when I first got here, I wasn't elite. I understand I had to prove my worth, but I was running up a tab on dark match nobodies. I felt like the Chris Chaos I knew, I created, I bred from ashes, was forever gone. I came in here and I looked up to you. I loved your whole creepy, horror movie doctor persona. I loved that there was blood everywhere and your promos were dark and made your opponents question their very existence. But what I respected and looked up to even more was your in-ring ability. I loved what you were able to do to other human beings inside those ropes and I even went as far as telling myself that one day, I want to be just like Doc.

.......But I had serious doubts on if that day would ever come.

Shaun Crowe, The fatal four way, the Hospital Room Brawl......I was 1-2 and starting to doubt if this was a good idea. Ted and Dave, Legend Killer 2.0, Luna Hightower, it was all bullshit. Then I had a chance to take out Muddy Waters. He was a "legend", but not a legend like you. I set his ass on fire and sent him packing. The TV title match, that everyone for some reason still wants to give me shit about, and that double pin draw.......I knew I could compete, but questioned if I could ever be you.

Still, I had my reservations if I had made the right choice.

I took Ginger Snaps out, and put her on the shelf and she hasn't been seen since. I spray painted her back to send her a message to you.

D O C

Truth is, I was nervous as all hell. I had a match with you and if I won, I'd get a spot in the chamber for the Universal Title. You could even go as far as to say that I feared you, Doc. I saw William Bateman in you, but a more talented version. I saw a legend with a resume as big as Texas, and little old me with another title opportunity gone to the wayside. Sure, I was 6-2-2 and everyone called me a "rising star", and sure I acted the part, but inside Doc, I wasn't sure I could get it done. Had I lost that match to you, and lost my spot at the title that has eluded me my entire career, chances are---in the mind state I was in---I would have quit. I would have called it a career right there. But it was worth a shot. It was worth one more time standing up to my insecurities and fighting for the one thing in this industry that I truly care about. And it was a hell of a match. Vinnie even tried to screw me at the last minute by making it a casket match---but I was laser focused. The way I looked at it, it was Elimination Chamber or bust. Universal Title or that's all she wrote on Chris Chaos.

And I beat you.

You can call this the "rubber match" all you want, but you know it's not. The last time we faced you had more backup than the LA SWAT team. You didn't do it alone because you can't do it alone. So this isn't a rubber match, as far as I am concerned this is game 2.

But back to the history lesson for a second. I beat you, Doc, and shocked the world. I was going to the chamber. But beating you awoke something in me. It awoke a beast that I hadn't felt in a long, long, LONG time. But it didn't come without a challenge. I was the ONLY one who had my Wild Card spot on the line time and time and time again. Every single week, I was all or nothing. But it was YOU who helped me to win. It was YOU who propelled me to greatness.

Why?

Well as the names like Hightower, Ted and Dave and Crowe faded, bigger and better names emerged. Hunter Payne, Brett Hart, Kurt Angle, Gabe Reno. Yes, as much as I think he was a tool, Gabe Reno is on that list. I didn't lose again until Reno screwed me in the tag match and Robbie Bourbon had to CHEAT to get a pinfall. But I was in. BECAUSE OF YOU, I was in. You were my depot, Doc, you facilitated my transportation to glory.

Like it or not, the names got bigger and the lights got brighter, all because of you. But before you fire off a promo and take credit for my career, let me just tell you that it was a growing and maturing process on my end. I was afraid if you, but I faced my fears, and now---I don't only not fear you, but I no longer fear anyone or anything. Beating you was my catapolte, and I have been at the top looking down ever since.

Look at it this way. Since I played football and had a chance to maybe go NFL before an injury, I'll use a football analogy. If you're a college player who gets drafted to the NFL. Let's say your a fan of a team and you get drafted to one of their rivals. You have a player you idolize and have idolized for some time. What happens when you have to play that team, play against that player you looked up to? Are you going to bow down and not play hard because you don't want to beat your team or your idol? No. You are going to always respect them but you are going to play your ass off to beat them. When you finally do, you will never feel the same again. You will feel like you can do anything.

That is how I feel.

I played the game against a man I looked up to, who I wanted to be like, and I defeated him. Now, I have a chance to do it again. The awe-struck eyes are gone. The sense of nervousness is gone. The idea of doubt is gone. Now that I know that I CAN beat you, I have no question in my mind that I WILL.

But your case, it is a tad bit different. You see, not only do I no longer fear you, but Doc I no longer respect you. The Kings, these designer suit wearing pricks, they just don't fit the image of the Doc I know. You sold out, Doc, plain and simple. You saw a free train ride to easy town and you took it. That isn't the Doc I know. Or the Doc I thought I knew. Look at Theo, Matthews, Samuels. Where does Doctor D'Ville fit in? At least with Soldier you had something unique. You both fit in so well like a ying and a yang. Right now, Doc, you stick out like a sore thumb. But that is usually what happens when you sell out. But before you twist my words and accuse me of doing the same thing let me tell you why my situation is so much different.

Main and Caedus, they are like me. They are aggressive, arrogant assholes. They look the part, and they play it too. Graves, he is a certified lunatic, but that is what makes him so dangerous. Just ask Dolly. Graves is an asset. Jenny, she is a cold hearted cunt who has no regard for human life, other than mine, of course. Now apparently we have alliances in Trax and Duke. Fine and Dandy. The point is we all are similar, look relatively similar, and other than Graves act similar. You, Doc, you don't fit in with your new clique. They know it too. Like I said before, when they don't need you anymore they will cast you off. You will see.

But lets cross that bridge when we get there.

Since winning the title, I've knocked off Dolly Waters, Peter Gilmour, even my now AX3 brothers Micheal Graves and Thaddeus Duke. All of them were big matches, all with the deck stacked against me. Before the match with you, Doc, I couldn't win the big one. Now, ALL I WIN are the "big ones". Stack the deck, throw in a cage, put a bullshit stipulation, I want it all. Because I came in and was in the company shortly more than 6 weeks when I beat one of the biggest superstars they've ever had.

Thaddeus Duke, too. Sure, he didn't beat you, but when you threw him off that scaffolding it proved one thing. YOU NEED ME. How, you ask? Duke pushed you to the brink. Duke gave you the match of all matches, but that hammer in the tool chest.....I PUT THAT THERE. Who knows what would have happened had I not. Doc, just face it, you've lost your luster.

You're nothing but a depot, Doc. MY depot. And when we take down the Kings, you will be the depot for that too. Because it all begins this week at Savage. Your demise, their demise, and my crowning as an immortal. YOU'RE the reason that XWF is in an era of chaos........so I hope you are happy. The great, almighty, powerful Doctor Louis D'Ville is nothing more than a depot for young talent. The majestic Doctor D'Ville is going to lose again at Savage and when that three count comes and that bell rings, your win record one on one against me will be the same as your dignity.....

ZERO.

Doc, it's over. Face it. But don't let it get to you. You know what they say.....

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.

You can wake up from that little "dream" now, Doc. Because reality has come to kick a hole in your ass vicariously through my size 13 shoe.

Victory has a face and a name, Doc. And it's name is

CHAOS"

Chris pours rubbing alcohol onto the candle and the candle explodes as as the screen goes black. Laughing can be heard, then the static from an old taxi radio.

The depot was burning to the ground. Somewhere in the distance, sirens could be heard.

DEPOT

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