The rain was warm, as was most Florida rains. What Chris loved most about the rain was that it was so freeing, so real. It was pure, clean, and somehow forgiving. The rain didn’t judge—it fell on everyone equally. It didn’t matter your history. It didn’t matter your religion, your beliefs, your thoughts. It didn’t matter if you sinned. It didn’t matter if you never sinned in your life. You got wet the same as everyone else.

It didn’t matter if you were Chris Chaos, Mr. F’n Dominance (Trax), Bearded War Pig, Robbie Bourbon, or if you were a soldier, known or unknown. It didn’t matter if your name was Peter Gilmour. All that mattered was that you were human. You had a pulse. You had a conscience. You had a body temperature in the 90’s. You bled, just like everyone else. The rain didn’t choose favorites. The rain gave everyone an equal shot to get wet, and an equal shot to find shelter. The rain could cool you down when you needed it to, but it could also put a damper on your day. The rain was both good and bad. In some countries, the rain provides sustenance. In this country, the rain was a nuisance.

Either way---the rain was part of life.

Chris thought about this as he walked down Mandalay Ave on Clearwater Beach. He thought about how the rain in Florida wasn’t like the rain anywhere else. It only lasted about 20 minutes usually. In Florida, it could literally be raining on one side of the street and be bright and sunny on the other. The Elimination Chamber was like the rain. It wasn’t judgmental---it gave everyone a fair shot. The structure itself was neutral. It was the vile and evil inhabitants which filled its innards that made the match so dangerous.

This was a match that ended careers. Not altered. Ended.

This was a match that had implications that could and would be a felony charge outside of the wrestling world. This was a violent, malevolent, hellish atmosphere. It wasn’t like the rain. The rain was neutral. What the rain accompanies is vile. Tornadoes, Hurricanes, Typhoons. These are all like the chamber. The neutral rain gives everyone a shot---these other things are what rip you apart from the inside out. The inhabitants in this match are like these storms---they all bring a certain element of danger.

Gilmour---The champion. Undeserving of being such, as he beat a scrub like Scully, but a champion none the less. Gilmour brings a powerful wind to this chamber---he brings hail and heavy damage. Gilmour is a tornado. He comes out of nowhere with a force never before seen or felt. He has a path that he rages through, and anything in that path is doomed. Gilmour can rip roofs off homes and throw cars down streets. His wrath shows no mercy. But, like a tornado, it is short lived. Once he does his damage he fades into the abyss. He turns back into the rain. The best strategy to out last the wrath of Gilmour is to do just that, to out last him. Don’t get in his way unless absolutely necessary. Gilmour is dangerous, sure, but he isn’t the most dangerous. And, he is avoidable. He is beatable. There are far other threats worse than the current Universal Champion. The rain comes after, cooling it all off and leaving only a memory of the wrath that once was. Tornadoes are strong over land, but weaker over water. How do you beat a Tornado besides waiting it out? Get near some water.

Trax---He is a hurricane, for sure. You can’t have a hurricane without rain. Trax comes in with a fury unmatched by any. He starts off as just a simple gust, and quickly becomes a life-changer. Trax has a brutal streak to him and is unforgiving. His speed is second to none. His rage is close to that. Trax is responsible for some of the most memorable moments in history—rage, pain, destruction. But, like Gilmour and the torando, Hurricane’s don’t last very long. They come in, they do their damage, and they move on with the passing winds. The longer they stay over land, the weaker they get. The more damage they do, the weaker they get. They actually hurt themselves by hurting others. Then, like the almighty tornado, they dissolve into puddles and fade off into the darkness.

War Pig---Well, the best way to describe War Pig would be a mud slide. What does this have to do with rain? You can’t have mud without water. This is fitting because War Pig smells like a mud slide. There is no greater force on planet earth than water. Mud, dirty, slimy—it comes with a vengeance. It can carry solid structures away with ease and can bury others under it’s disgusting flow. War Pig is much like this---a fury and strength unseen by many. Water will continue to rush until you stop it. How do you stop a mudslide? You contain it. You put a wall up. You get it into one area and stop it from charging forward. Eventually, a mud slide becomes a mud puddle and that puddle dissolves into vapor.

Bourbon---Robbie Bourbon was an avalanche. He was stronger than he looked, and that was pretty strong. The rumble is deafening. The force he hits you with is unmatched by any force in nature. You can’t have snow without water. Water creates all life, but it also takes it away. An avalanche hits you out of nowhere and somewhere. You can see it coming, but you also can’t. When it hits you, it takes you with it. It buries you alive. It breaks your bones and your soul. It brings destruction wherever it goes. But it is not an unstoppable force, but not unconquerable. You can get out of the way, or, possibly, even stop it all together. An avalanche is caused by forces outside itself….like most storms….and like most storms, doesn’t last forever. Warmth, heat and light can melt away the snow.

Soldier---That brings up the most interesting storm of all. It is not a storm, really, but a force of nature. Soldier isn’t part of the rain, because Soldier follows his own rules. He gets in, and he tears you up. He takes your ground out from under you. He takes your safety and your security and he splits it in two. He shakes you to your very core. He disrupts the natural order of life. And once he has you...you are never the same. But the higher up you are, and the more solid of a structure you are, the weaker an earthquake is. However, there really is no force on this planet that can stop an earthquake. You just have to hope you are lucky enough to not be in it’s path.

What do all of these have in common? They are all members of chaos. They are all chaotic. You can’t have a single one of these without having chaos. You can’t have a single one of these without understanding the principles of chaos.

All of these are dangerous in their own way---but Chris is a little bit of all of them. He is the ground, the water, the wall, the sunlight and heat----he is the stopper of the unstoppable. Why? Because they don’t possess a single skill that he does not. They are all a part of him, whether they know it or not. Chris was going to need to channel all of these to be successful in the chamber. He would have to, and we would.

As he got to the end of Mandalay Ave, he came to the round-a-bout traffic circle. Even with the rain it was still busy. Puddles splashed off the tires of cars and windshields were blurry with a white condensation film. Wipers splashed back and forth like metronome hands on a clock. Breaks hissed and squeaked, and the sound of the rain sounded like nickles dropping onto hardened sand.



Chris’s shirt was stuck to him now, and his hair was matted and messy. He didn’t care. The rain was beautiful. It was chaotic. Turning towards Pier 60, he listened as his flip flops clopped on the wet pavement. Pier 60 would be pretty much empty at this time of day—around 4 pm—and in this weather.

Walking on the gradual incline that was the pier, he could see the bait house towards the end of the pier in the distance. It was a bit blurry from the rain and fog coming in off the Gulf, but it was there. He knew it was there.

Getting to the bait house, he got to the turnstile. Seeing the WALK THE PIER---$5, FISHING---$7, BAIT---$2.50. The window was closed. The kid working in the bait house was on his cell phone, not even paying attention. Chris shook his head before taking two fingers and wrapping on the plexiglass window. The kid, looking like he was rather inconvenienced by Chris’s texting interruption, sighed and got up, walking over to the window.

“Uh, bro. It’s like, raining. You looking to fish?”

Chris smiled. “No….’bro’. I live here, in Belle Harbor, and I wanted to take a peek at the Gulf. I love the water when it rains.”

“Uhh….weird bro. But oookay, that will be 5 dollars.”

“I don’t see on the sign where it says anything about Gulf Viewing. I’ll be sitting, not walking, and I am not fishing. So unless you want to be bait---in which case I’ll pay you the two fifty, I’d open this goddamn turnstile.”

The kid, who obviously wanted no part of this, tapped the button with his foot and let Chris through.

Walking up to the edge of the pier and looking down at the water he saw the drops of rain hitting the surface, parting it gently, before disappearing. Becoming whole. Becoming one.

“I have the biggest match of my career coming up”he said to seemingly no-one. “Bigger than anything in Phoenix Wrestling, bigger than anything in MMA or in boxing. This is a match in a structure 16 feet high, surrounded by a mile of steel. 6 men. 6 enemies. All looking to do the worst things imaginable to one another……..for the biggest prize in the game.”

Was he talking to the water? Talking to the rain drops? Talking to the Gulf?

“I have unbelievable odds against me. The chaos I need to create will be of exponential proportions. This match will decide who I am. It will bring out the real me. Am I good enough? I believe so. But I have to believe I am public enemy number 1. I am the top target, besides Gilmour, and I know the cards are stacked against me.”

He was looking down at the water, still being assaulted by the rain drops. The few people who were fishing in the rain were looking at him now, looking at him like he had two heads. But, like most times in the rain, the fishing was good. The fishing was always good in the rain.

Because the rain was good.

It was so chaotic in its own subtle way.

“I needed to get my mind right. I still do. I did what I needed to do. I beat all odds. I have over come every obstacle put in front of me to keep my right to compete in this match. I have done everything in my power to put myself in position. Now, it is up to me to finish the fight. I should be undefeated since the first week of October, but one of my opponents decided he needed to cheat to beat me. That is fine---he will get his. But I need to make sure I am on top of my game. I need to make sure I am the rain that starts the storm, not the storm the rain becomes.”

One of the fishermen looked over when he said this, but something was on his line and he looked back. Spanish Mackerel. They loved the rain too.

Pulling out the now worn out looking card from his pocket, he held it in his hands, looking at it. Turning it to the left, then the right. “I won’t need this anymore. It’s been good luck for me, but I have the summit in sight….the rest is on me.”

He flicked the Wild Card into the water, letting the Gulf take it in as its own. He watched as the card floated, its edges ducking under the water then popping back up with the current.

“Wild Card Weekend is here. The longer I held that card, the longer it kept me down. I made it to the promise land, now I need to check in. The longer I held that card, the longer it reminded me that I wasn’t done with my quest. I said since Day 1 this is what I came to do. Many called me brash. Some called me disrespectful. Some laughed. But I said since my first promo here that I was coming for that belt---and this card is a symbol of an opportunity…...now it is a symbol of the work I put in past. It is on me to go into that chamber and win. The longer I held that card, the more held down I would be.”

Watching as it floated away, he dropped to one knee. His clothes stuck to him, but the tightness felt good in a way. The puddles under his feet in his sandals, for some reason, let him know he was alive.

“Wild Card Weekend is here----and Chris Chaos is the perfect storm. Sometimes, you need to fight order with chaos. There is no order inside that structure. Just pain. Chaos is the glue that holds it together…...and chaos is the only normal thing about it.”

Suddenly the sound stopped. The pellets assaulting his face lightened. The boardwalk around him became illuminated with an array of colors. Looking out over Clearwater Beach---a place that set the Guinness Book of World Records for 361 consecutive days of sunshine---he noticed the sun peaking out through the scattering clouds. It never rained in Clearwater. He just happened to be lucky enough to be out on a day where it did.

The new guys never wins the big match with 5 other veterans staring him in the face. He was just lucky enough to have the opportunity to be the first.

_____________+__________________+_________________+

“All week long, social media has been blowing up. ‘You lost to Bourbon. You got pinned. You took out your own partner, what are you an idiot?’ These people all want to live in the past. They want to remind me of things that happened, not look towards the future and the things that will. Robbie Bourban can’t beat me, and he knows it. He had to cheat to do it. A guy that big having to pull such a bush league rookie move? It shows what he is really about. And as for RENO. I never liked him. I never trusted him. Jenny was luckily alert enough not to trust him either. I was willing to let my guard down for the good of the company and it almost cost me. Nothing a little office window can’t fix.

Now, as for me stepping into this match. I understand it is going to be the test of all tests. I understand it is going to be arguably the biggest match they have had here. Bigger, even, than Leap of Faith. Two of my opponents in this match—ironically two of the men who I took to school on Warfare---have both opened their mouths already. Bourbon, who basically has the intellect of a special needs toddler, and Mr. F’n Dominance who has looked—at least in his matches against me—everything but dominant. Mr. F’n Mediocre would be more accurate. But he did have a few relatively worth while things to say. He does have the youth, he does have speed, he does have strength. My question is, does he have drive? Does he have motivation? Does he have heart? Honestly, all I have seen from him since I have been here has been gum flapping with no results. Sure, he may have a storied career here, but that is what archives are for. Since I have been here he has been nothing more than a loud annoyance who whines at the slightest thing that doesn’t go his way. Hell if he wasn’t in this match, he probably would have a picket sign outside the arena and make up lies to get people not to go in. I wouldn’t put it past him. His head is much bigger than his talent.

Bourbon, on the other hand, is nothing more than an over-sized coward. A giant, powdery man baby. A slimy roach who needs to cheat to beat me, even though it was 2 on 1. Bourbon took the quick and easy way out, then proceeded to talk shit about it. Do you think I wouldn’t see it, Robbie? Do you think I wouldn’t see the sexual assault bit you did? Your little attempt at being clever? It wasn’t clever, it was stupid. Everything you do is stupid. I would go as far as to say your entire existence on this planet is stupid. I mean you even call yourself the J-o-b-b-e-r King. Need I say more? I have more respect than a banana head wearing Jervis Cottonbelly than I do for you. That is saying a lot.

War Pig? You’ve had some nice time off haven’t you? Where the hell have you been? You came in and took this place by storm—even beating me out for SuperStar of the month way back when. You were on a roll and seemed to be a lock, a shoe in, for the best belts in this business. You seemed to be one on a collision course with Scully and hoisting that belt. Then---you lost to Kitt Kennedy. And it all unraveled. Your world came apart at the seems. That is all anyone remembers. It went downhill from there, but it doesn’t matter because you lost to Kitt fucking Kennedy. The fact you are in this match at all is baffling to me. When is the last time you were even on a card? Your rust will catch up to you quickly. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you get eliminated first.

Soldier…..Soldier, Soldier, Soldier. You freaky little Kiss-fan looking gerbil. You may be the only one in this match that I actually respect. You and Doc, alike, are much like me. Chaotic. Crazy. Unpredictable. You are a certainly a legend here. Your record alone says that. 42-5-1. That is the stuff legends are made of. Doc had a record like that too, didn’t he? What was he? 32-5-1? Who gave him that blemish? Who gave him his first loss since August of 2015? ME! And I am willing to get just as crazy...to dig just as deep. I am willing to get just as evil in order to put another blemish on your as well. I refuse to let some Gene Simmons look-a-like hoist MY belt...legend here or not.

PETER FUCKING GILMOUR. That is how I am supposed to say it, right? You always write it in caps, I figured that is how it is supposed to be said. You are about to have the shortest Universal Title reign in the history of the XWF. You beat Scully—which isn’t an accomplishment when you think about it---but I do respect that you do what you say you will. You said you would beat Scully and you did. But I, too, am a man of my word. I said I was going to beat Doc, and I did. I said I was going to beat Reno, and I did. I said I was going to come for this belt—YOUR BELT—and I will. Nobody has been able to prove me wrong yet. Nobody has been able to take me off my high horse, and you won’t be the one either. You can hate all the fans you want. You can use all the foul language you want. You can throw up as many middle fingers as you want. Go ahead, flick off every member of this match---then when that glass opens and I am standing across from you, I am going to break off that finger and shove it up your ass. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting---I have been too busy creating chaos and wreaking havoc on Savage. Perhaps you saw me close out the show the past few weeks? Perhaps you saw me take out McBride and Waters? Why? Because I can. Because I wanted to. And you will find out, Mr. Gilmour, that I get what I want.

Only I can stop the rain.

The storm stops here.

Chaos is new Order. Chris is the new Champion.

Better call your bookies now.”

He looked out the window to the bright sun. He had stopped the rain. He would stop the rain. He was the new Universal Champion. He could feel it in his bones. It was a real as the rain.

XWF RECORD: 12-3-2