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Chris Chaos · **09-26-2017, 08:48 PM**

The machines were beeping their deathly tune. Even though machines, specifically these machines, were designed to keep someone alive--when you heard them, your hope waned. You never wanted to hear these machines. You stood and looked at the carcass before you, and they barely looked human anymore. They looked like something from a sci-fi movie. He brought it on himself. You hated this man. He embodied everything you fought against, but you came to see him in his final moments because you wanted to be the last one he saw before he passed. You wanted your imaged to be the last one on his mind before his eyes went black.

As the man before you struggled to breath, assisted by technology, you began to think of all the times you and him competed. You competed an awful lot, but he was never up to your level. He could never quite get over the hump. Then, one day, he did something to screw you over and ended up paying dearly for it. You were better off for it, honestly. Look where he was now.

This visitation event was a cluster fuck. It was set up by someone named Colton something or other, who claimed somewhere on the family tree he was related. It was all a mess. Colton never was good at putting things together. And his cousin, Joshua, all he did was make inappropriate C-Diff jokes and grab nurses asses. He was promptly asked to leave. This man was all by him himself, isolated on an island, and taking his final gasps.

You remembered back to when you two were at the peak of your competition. You were already established as the best, if not one of the best, in the world at what you do. He was up and coming. He was young and dumb. Brash. He looked at you as a target. You looked at him as a pest. He wanted to join up with you and you brushed him off, as you remember is, so he took offense to it. He tried to topple your throne, to take you out, because of nothing but sheer jealousy.

When you are at the top, everyone wants to take a shot.

You still remembered the day vividly. You remembered when he made his move, took his shot. There was a bedpan next to him for whenever the nurses decided he had to go to the bathroom. There were tubes filled with blood going in and tubes filled with a greenish tinted liquid coming out. His eyes were open, but empty. Heavily bandaged over the parts of his body that didn't have tubes, he would be in severe pain without the help of the strongest medications the world had to offer. Part of you hoped he was in pain. Serves him right. The room was uncomfortably warm. There was a small buzz from the central air unit. It was on, but it didn't feel it. The stench of death was beginning. The curtains in the room were closed, and the ultra-bright florescent lights stung your eyes. The more you looked down at the man they once said may be better than you, the more you saw someone who should have just accepted their role and realized that they could never, and would never, be you.

Nobody could.

As the machine began to beep more rapidly, and the numbers began to jump around like those on the stock market, your thoughts drifted back to the not so fond memories of the sworn enemy who lay in front of you.

It was race day, the biggest of the year. You two had been back and forth for weeks, promoting yourselves and slandering the other. Now it was time to prove it. You two had been the business for a little while now and were rapidly becoming the two most talked about. Headline after headline. It was time now to put up or shut up. You kicked the car into gear and the race to the top began. Neck and neck you two were. Around one bend, you'd be in the lead. Around the next he would be. Nose to nose. You could see him sweating. He needed this more than you, and desperate men do desperate things. You figured he had a trick or two up his sleeve, but what he did have you were not ready for.

As you were rounding the bend, turning for home, you could see the finish line. The win was in your grasp. All of the sudden, another car came out of nowhere. A car you thought was your ally. It bumped you to the side, you spun. Frantically trying to regain control, he accelerated and passed you. Your world came to an end right there. It was over. You didn't know how you would ever recover from this.

But karma has a funny way of working. As you stood there and watched him celebrate, you knew it would be short lived. He wasn't ready to shoulder your load. He would make mistakes. He would get too full of himself.

You came to find out that just a few days later, he was celebrating another win and got out of his car, holding his arms up, when he was taken out by a truck. The driver was an unkempt bearded mess of a man with dip spit on his beard and murder in his eyes. The young kid never saw it coming. He let his guard down and became a statistic. He made the same mistake you did. He paid much more dearly do it, however. His career was over. As you sat there staring at the man who was on his last gasp, you realized, that bearded man killed his career, and your job was to put the finishing touches on it. Even if he did come out of this, he would never be the same again. The brash, arrogant, aggressive man you came to know would never be more than a timid shell of his old self.

You saw the photos. The mangeled mess of bone and ligament. The blood on the pavement. You remember the crunch, how it sounded.....like a gun shot. In the snap of a finger, the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Gabe Reno.....this match is going to steal the show. A steel cage, how fitting. A marketing decision, no more, no less. An attempt to get inside my head. Pathetic. All this does is further prove my point. Gabe Reno isn't extraordinary......he's just extra-ordinary. Your loosely tied together promos....sure, they are good in the story department. But you haven't had a real lick of "trash talk" since you thought a remix of Panda would be a cute way to start. What's the matter? Bust your nut early? I've heard that about you. The problem is, you don't have a nut to bust. It is evident that your nut has been busted long ago, and now, your just looking for that tingly feeling one more time before you go to sleep.

Me.....I'll be fine. Win or loss, my legacy doesn't die. If Gabe Reno gets lucky a second time nobody says to themselves "whelp, looks like its time for ol' Chaos to hang em up!" I have blazed a path of destruction here that is only growing wider. When I beat you, Gabe, people WILL say to themselves "damn, thats Chaos. I guess Reno wasn't as good as he said he was". Thanks for making this less fun for me. Thanks, Gabe, for being too loud for your skills and making beating you a favor and not an accomplishment. Thank you for being just another face on my resume. This match means so much more for you than it does for me. I never thought tht would be the case. 2 months ago, I never would have even fathomed that being the case. I was too consumed with what happened. But look at the results......both with you Gabe, and with Jim Caedus. Look at the record books. A loss, and then I go on a tear. After you stole my title I won my next four matches......after you stole the title, you were gone before you could fight four. I lose to Jim Caedus, I beat everyone else. I am always growing and adapting. I am rebounding. I am still kicking after all the times I was kicked when I was down. I have my sights set on bigger goals. You have your sights set on me.

That is the difference.

You ruined my life at the time. You took everything from me and then rubbed it in my face. Now here we are, 5 months later and I am STILL in the Universal Title picture while you are hovering somewhere in the vicinity of mattering to anyone. Oh, what a crazy turn of events this has become. I used to be an egomaniac to a fault. I used to let it get to me. Now, I have, I guess you could say, grown up. You are still childish. We are on different wavelengths. Two different paths. I'll admit, I used to be jealous. I used to wonder why I couldn't cut promos like you. Why I couldn't put it all together to make it look all shiny and neat. Why I couldn't have a goofy sense of humor with a dark twist and stories that don't make any sense at first until you read them for the 18th time and you finally realize there is a meaning there......I used to think I couldn't beat you. You don't now how badly that loss in the cage fucked me up. You don't know how badly it almost ended my career......I gave it all I had and I came up short when I felt like I never should have lost.

I felt like you didn't actually beat me.

I could cling to it. I could cut promos solely based on whining about losing my title and yadda yadda......but I'm not. Like I said before, an L is and L. Sometimes it isn't about a loss, it is about how you respond to a loss. I lost to you, I kept on chugging. You lost to Caedus, you caused a scene like a child. Now you are back and expect people to take you seriously while I am back and expect it because I have EARNED it.

We have a match that can steal the show on Warfare. We are locked inside a cage, with nowhere to run. We find out in the rubber match who will be the better man on that night. You need to be the better man.

No pressure, Gabe. Deep breaths.

This is going to be a match to define career paths, Gabe. This will be a match with so much more riding on it than revenge. I am going to be Universal Champion again. I have plans that far exceed whatever happens in that cage tomorrow night. I have plans that don't include you. Gabe you can be the erratic enigma all you want, whatever helps you sleep at night, but I am going to be the best around here. I am going to be written forever in the annuls of XWF history books as the of the top guys ever to lace a pair of boots here. You are going to just be another dude who came and went. I know it is redundant, it is beating a dead horse, but I am trying to drive home the point that I am both the Panda and the poacher.....the subject and the predicate. I am the one who is talked about, the headliner, you are relevant because I made you that way. The only reason anyone knows who Gabe Reno is because you got lucky enough to defeat me. You joined an exclusive list with 18 others. I have 40 wins under my belt, one of them being you, and countless other "big names". Win or lose, I am in the big matches. I main event pay per views and even when I don't I steal the show.

You call me arrogant, and I find that funny. You will basically blow anyone who will pat you on the back. You are the first one to tell everyone how good you are. You try to cut me down at every turn and talk about how I have fallen off. You try to slander me with words at every turn. How much I suck and how good you are. I haven't been able to beat Jim Caedus....I have admitted it on several occasions. Have you been able to come to terms with it? No. It is always a whining bitch fit from you. Excuse after excuse as to why you aren't the superhero you see youself as. It is always someone else's fault. Gabe, you are just like I used to be. I never wanted to look inside and see that it was my own arrogance that got the best of me. It will get the best of you, too. Because no matter how good you are, there is always someone out there who is better. There is always someone out there that you can't beat. There is always someone who has your number. Even if you get lucky in this cage, it doesn't matter. None of it matters. What matters is where we are going and I am staring at the summit. I am hovering around the top. This isn't me being arrogant, this is me being real. You took everything from me, and I grew from it. Jim Caedus took everything from you, and you whined about it. You haven't grown. You haven't adapted. You are the same overzealous and over-the-top-douche you were when you left. There has been no learning curve. It is a shame, really. I was hoping I would be getting into the ring with a new and improved Gabe Reno. A Gabe Reno I have never seen before. No. I am getting into the ring with Panda Gabe. But Gabe you aren't stepping into the ring with Panda Chris. That Chris is dead. That Chris is never to be seen again. Panda Chris was a Chris who was coasting because he felt like nobody could come into his enclosure and survive. Now, I know I am vulnerable. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. I know who I am but Gabe you haven't done nearly enough soul-searching. So look deep down into that glass heart of yours and ask yourself....what do you get if you win? You get a little pride, a pat on the back, a one up. But what do you really get? I am going to win a briefcase at Leap of Faith, a briefcase similar to the one that put you out of action for an entire summer, and I am going to be the next Universal Champion. What is next, Gabe, you are going to challenge me for that, too? You are going to grow your hair out more, dye it blonde, and start fucking former strippers. You want to be me so bad it hurts. It hurts worse than than when old Doc pees. Your envy of me is like trying to pass a kidney stone. It is okay, I would want to be me too. I would want what I have.

I can say that now. I couldn't before.

You opened my eyes to that. You saved me that day in the cage. No doubt, if you didn't take the total bitch rout I would still be the Universal Champion, but because you did I learned more about myself than I ever thought possible. Sometimes your worst enemies can be your dearest friends, and they don't even know it.

The machine was beeping rapidly, and nurses were running into the room. Your thoughts came back from that fateful day, and you remembered where you were and why you were there. Your job was to put an end to this man. The bearded Sasquatch did a number on him, but now, it is your turn to clean up. Almost dead, but still alive enough to be annoying. Even the way he died was annoying. He couldn't just go quietly, he didn't do anything quietly. He had to thrash, and gasp, and make moaning noises.

The nurses told you that you had to leave the room. They called a code. It was pandemonium, confusion, chaos.

You stepped outside the room, and for once hoped he would be okay. You didn't want him to die at anyones hand other than yours. Selfish? Sure. Fair? No. But life isn't always fair. You learned that the hard way so long ago......

Time seemed to stand still. The nurses and doctors exited the room with a relieved look on their face. They were muttering something about that being close and that he wouldn't make it through another one of those.

Your smile couldn't be contained. Walking back into the room---he looked so peaceful. He looked like your old love did right before you pulled the plug on her lying, cheating, sorry ass. Now you had a chance to pull it on another lying, cheating, sorry ass. You wanted him to know it was you. You wanted him to know that at his most vulnerable, when he needed a breath more than ever before, that you were the one to take it away.

Your hand wrapped around the tube connecting his chest to the machine. Leaning in so close that your breath made his peach fuzz sway like palm trees in a hurricane you whispered "Iconolast...bitch".

You pulled your hand upward.

"Icon.....o..........LAST" The tube came out. Instantly his eyes opened They were wide, and deep. All of the sudden they were full of life, just as life was passing by. You unplugged the now beeping machine from the wall. The gasping resembled a fish out of water. It resembled any gilled animal outside of the water, for that matter.

Just as desperately pathetic.

You looked them right in the eye, they knew it was you. They knew you were responsible for their demise. That made you feel happy.

You watched their last gasp with a smile, then shut their eye lids with a smile and left the room just as the nurses rushed in.

Sometimes your worst enemies can be your dearest friends, and they don't even know it.

Chris's car barreled up Gulf to Bay. He was heading towards the Courtney Campbell Bridge. He was going off, he had made his mind up. He had never tried to kill himself before, but what did he have left? Nicole was gone....she was in attendance, she had watched him lose his title in the most embarrassing of ways. He no longer had his belt. His power rankings had plummeted like a metor towards earth. He was nothing anymore.

He would make the news. This would be his last ditch effort to show the world how much he was suffering, but would never show it. He shifted the transmission. He could see the bridge, see the Bay. He wondered what it would be like to die. He wondered what it would be like to have it all go black with a last intake of water.

A last gasp.

He hit the bridge. It was a beautiful sunny day in Tampa. 90 something degrees. The water was about 75. He had looked it up beforehand. At least he would die in warm water.

Fuck the Titanic.

He turned the wheel in a jerking motion, and could feel it become weightless as it soared through the air. He felt the splash and the car hit the water as if it were concrete. It almost bounced. A smile crossed his face as water rushed in from all directions.

It was up to his chin almost instantly. He could taste the salt concentration. Putting his head back, he sighed with relief. He was going to go down with the ship.

Just then, as the water was over his head and his lungs burned like a million piercing knives, he felt a hand grab his. Warm, clammy, but firm. He felt himself being pulled upward. he could see the sunlight rapidly approaching.

Just then, out of instinct alone, he could feel himself gasping. Coughing. The sun pierced his retinas. He could barely see, but the blurry vision he had did allow him to make out a figure.

Jason Corrigan.

His worst enemy had just saved his life.

He tried to sputter out words, but could only cough.

"If anyone is going to kill you, it is going to be me." The words came out with a harsh sense of truth and firmness.

He then could make out the crunching of the sand as Jason walked back to his car.

This was Chris's last gasp, and he failed.

Now, 5 months later, he remembered this moment as he sat on his porch, smoking a cigar. Gabe Reno is on his last gasp....and he, too, would fail.

"If anyone is going to kill Gabe Reno, it is going to be me" he said, ashing his cigar and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

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