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Chris Chaos · (06-27-2017)

JUST LIKE ME

“He knew he couldn't tell stories, that he always included extraneous details & tangents that interested only him.”
---John Green, An Abundance of Katherines

Chris, for as long as he could remember, had been self-centered and shallow. He was grateful, somewhere deep down, for everyone who ever helped him but lord knows he'd never show it. He was all about himself, and what did he have to show for it?

He was right back where he started. On the bottom half of the top ten, no belt, no major feud, no headlines and most importantly, no respect. What did he have left? No more ego. No more clout. All he had was his balls and his word.

..............and he WOULD rise again.

But sometimes you need to start over before you can truly find out who you are.

Walking around his childhood home in East Tampa, the memories of his life came rushing back like a flooded river in windstorm. The creaky floorboards were still intact. All of the furniture still sat---anything that hadn't been stolen by meth heads---as if the previous occupants has left in the middle of the night and never bothered to take anything with them.

It's like they existed.......but never actually lived.

***

He heard the sirens. He heard the voices yelling, the dogs barking. Somewhere, faintly, he heard the sound of a helicopter. Looking at the clock on the nightstand he saw the time.

[Image: mEF9ynP.jpg]

He barely had time to roll over before the voices got closer. They were almost inside the room with him. As far as he could tell through the thin walls, they may as well have been. Just then his room light turned on.

"Come on, get up. We're getting out of here."

Chris was groggy. The harsh light burned his retinas. His face was quickly covered by what he assumed was a shirt covering his face. It must have been thrown at him.

"Right now. Come."

He threw the shirt on. Still groggy, he walked out into the main living area. His mother was packing a bag frantically. She barely even had time to zip it when the front door bust open. Flashlights and red dots filled the house and loud voices were shouting things like "get down" and "hands up". It was all so confusing, which one did they want? Down or up?

His mother got down on her knees---which he laughed a bit to himself through the chaos because if you knew her that wasn't an unfamiliar position for her---and a man in a big vest and a helmet cuffed her hands behind her.

"You aren't being arrested mam, simply detained."

Sure looked like arrested.

"Where is Dustin Carlile? We have a warrant for his arrest. He has been ducking us for months, and we traced him to this address."

His mother wasn't the most cooperative person anyway, but especially not with the law. Why would she be? She was still hotter than most 20 year olds, she could get men to do whatever she wanted.

And often times, she did.

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking about or what the fuck you're talking about. Get these damn cuffs off me. It is fucking 6 in the morning. Don't you have anything better to do?"

Chris just stood there, watching his mother in small lingerie with cuffs on and a full Newport 100 burning in the ashtray.

"Mam, we know he is here. You could be taken in for harboring a fugitive. It is simple. Just tell us where to find him."

She paused for a minute, looking at Chris. He loved his mother, even though she wasn't perfect. And as far as he knew, she loved him. He didn't have a lot to love anymore---Nicole had turned her back on him and he dropped the game winning touchdown in his high school playoff game. They won anyway, but they should have won sooner. He was waiting to hear back from USF and their coaching staff. He had been in fights and gotten in some trouble at school. His mother was all he had left at this moment.

She looked at him, then looked up at the Tampa SWAT officer who was standing over her. Then back at Chris.

"Dustin, run!" She yelled, looking at Chris.

What the fuck?

Two officers immediately looked at him. He turned tail and ran. He ran through the living area, jumping over tables and knocking chairs out of the way.

The two officers gave chase, threatening to shoot.

He didn't stop running. He couldn't stop. He made it to the garage, and that is when he saw it. A wall, literally, made of cocaine bags. There had to be thousands of pounds. There was enough cocaine in the garage to fuel the entire Gulf Coast drug trade. How had he missed this? How had he never seen this before?

That was the last thought he had before he felt his face hit the cement floor and a knee in his back. Then another. His arms were ripped nearly off as they were shoved behind his back.

"I am not Dustin, this is not mine!"

"Shut the fuck up!" a night stick cracked across his face. He tasted blood.

Through blurry and tear stained eyes, he saw another pair of feet. He looked up, but could still barely see.

Dustin.

"MOM! What is happening?!" He yelled out.

"Who are you?!" The cop said.

"I am Chris Jackson, I am her son."

That lying prick!

The officers lifted him up. His feet barely touched the ground.

"I hope you rot in there, Du-s-tin" he said, drawing out the last word, "for what you put us through."

Chris tried to head but the man and got another shot to the back.

The man leaned in. "I'm gonna fuck your mom real good tonight......."

***

He ran his hands across the table. The life of debauchery and self-centeredness began that night. He walked further, running a hand across the couch. The same couch he sat on after he beat up the neighbor boy for no reason. The same couch he sat on after he sabotaged the school's fire alarms and set fire to all the bathroom trashcans.

He did things because he could. He did things because it made him feel better. He did things because he wanted to---and who could stop him?

He sat at the kitchen table---a coffee cup from all that time ago---he ran his fingers through the handle. With a sigh he looked at the cabinets.

The mail still sat in the holder. "Dustin Carlile-Jackson".

He squeezed the handle a little tighter.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Well Jim, you did it. You metaphorically fucked me in the ass at High Stakes. You lubed up good and fist fucked my shithole all the way to your elbow. Isn't that how you like to describe things? You're such a wordsmith, Jim. A real thesaurus. I cant even comprehend the level of intelligence you display on a daily basis. It blows my mind. For someone who claims to have been homeless you sure sound like you masturbate to the dictionary quite a bit. You're a fraud, Jim. I said it before and I will say it again. You aren't what you claim to be. You aren't the "working man's champion". You aren't the savior of the common man. You put on a good show, an act, an Oscar winning performance. But the truth is the truth, and you can't hide from it. You saw what happened at Savage, didn't you Jim? THAT is your future. Now you know what it was like for me. Now you know the pressure. Now you know how it feels to be backed into a corner. Jim Caedus has been the intimidating figure for almost a year....he has been the enigma. He has been the one backing people INTO the corners. Now, he has to fight his way out. But Jim can't do it. You see, Jim has become, ironically enough, just like me when I was the Universal Champion. Think about it. All the tough talk, all the posturing, all the chest puffing. I'm guilty of it. I got in my own head. Winning helped. Here is what happened to me:

I won a match I wasn't supposed to win. Some say I stole it. Then I came out and I beat Dolly Waters in my first match as Universal Champion, albeit non title. That may not look like much now, but at the time Dolly was the hottest commodity in the business. She was the rising star. She was the "next big thing". But she fell at my feet. Equalizer. 1-2-3. That took my confidence through the roof. Maybe I could do this, maybe I would be a good champion. Then I had a slew of easy matches. My first title defense came a month later vs. Peter Gilmour, the resident punching bag of XWF. Everyone gassed it up. They told me to watch out, that Gilmour was a legend, that Gilmour could hit the Gilmour Cutter out of nowhere and my title could be gone in the blink of an eye. But I made light work of him. Now, my ego was planetary. Later that same month I was in a match where I had to win by THREE falls over your little jetpack cuddle buddy Michael Graves. The matches were getting increasingly harder, increasingly more against my favor. What did I do? I rose to the occasion. Sure, some people will say I had a significant amount of help from the shamed Savage GM Colton Kato. But a W is a W, is it not? This isn't the excuse business. This is the wrestling business. So after that, I began to think I would never lose that title. Hell, I even went on to face Thaddeus Duke on the next Warfare in a first blood match. I busted him open and left him in a pool of his own blood. But then, it all began to crumble. I let someone get in my head. I let someone not in my league dictate my mood, my actions, and I put my guard up a little too far. When Tidbits captured Jenny I lost it. I became unfocused. I had too many things going on at one time. So, then what happened? I walked into that Hell in a Cell against Gabe Reno and I wasn't as ready as I should have been. When Vinnie tried to do what Kato did, he failed, but I failed too. I was so focused on NOT getting screwed, that I got screwed. And I lost my belt. After that, I rattled off three straight. I was on a tag team that won Dolly and the holder of Dolly's V card, Graves. I beat Steve Davids, the "Legend" in his comeback match. I beat the Kings little whipping boy Cadryn Tiberius in a "Savage Sanitarium" match. Then, I joined AX3. I became just another piece. I lost my uniqueness. I became just another guy in just another stable. Now, I am on my own again, and it is time for my revival.

Now, let's take a look at you. Let's take a look at your path. Let's see how you were, are, and will end up, just like me.

You were running roughshod. The big, quiet man with the deep eyes and the unwashed beard. You had a godly appearance, and people were afraid of you from jumpstreet. You could back up your scary image with an ass kicking ability never seen before here. You were the TV champion. You had the luxury of being a champion before the Universal. I didn't have that luxury. So lets look at your relevant Universal Title history, as it pertains to me.

You won a match that many claim you stole. I mean lets face it, you did steal it. You stole it like a member of Trax's family in a high end retail store. Then what happened? You had a non title match the very first Warfare after. Against who? Oh yes, that heavy bag--literally--that I had beaten already. Peter Gilmour. But what happened? You almost lost. You two escaped the cage and hit the ground almost simultaneously. Peter Gilmour almost gave you the shortest Universal Title reign in the history of the company-----even though it was non title.......your reign would have been over. A loss to Gilmour is like a loss to Gilberg. And it was oooohhhh so close to happening to you.

Moving on. Your next match was Nate Higgers. Remember my slew of easy matches I mentioned? Drezdin and Nami, that fat fuck Robbie Bourbon and some washed up cunt called Shelby Cobra, Snow. Yours began with Nate Higgers. Then you disappeared. You were a ghost for two weeks. The real heart of a champion there, wasn't it Jim? You didn't compete again until your "Frenemies" Match with your new AX3 "brother"---literally---in Trax. You tore each other apart, but what happened? Trax beat you. He couldn't even use his finishing move, and he beat you. He pinned you 1-2-3. Some people may say you got screwed. Some people may say Trax cheated. But what was I told time and time again? A win is a win and a loss is a loss. Look at my cruise ship match against Nixon and Reno. A loss where I lost because I simply did not win. I was not pinned. In fact, Jim, during my reign as Champion I was never pinned cleanly. The only three times I were was when Reno hit me with a chair and Main pinned me, when Slathe stole Jenny and Tidbits took advantage and then the screw job at the Pay Per View. You will probably blame a blackout, blame Chaz, blame Trax for cheating. But like nobody would let me use excuses, you cannot either. A loss is a loss, so I was told. And your partner in this shaky little alliance of thrown together "talent" known as AX3, can and has beaten you. He wants your gold, too.

So, whats next? Well, you disappeared again. Until the AX3 takeover show. Until you had your buddies to back you up. Until you felt confident enough to go into High Stakes. While I was busting my ass and beating any and everyone in my path you were fighting once, maybe twice a month, and hiding behind your AX3 brethren for protection. We were both building confidence, Jim, we just have different ways of going about it. Yours, also, happens to be the bitch way.

"Then, you beat BWP on Warfare. You defended your title. That is two defenses a pieces, me and you. But, UNLIKE me, you were successful in your third. But now look at the landscape. I ended Micheal Graves's career and saved us all from having to suffer through looking at that steaming pile of gaseous shit week in and week out. Trax wants the title you hold, and knows he can beat you. Steve Davids is about as useless as they come. You're surrounded by nothings, Jim. Your world as you knew it is crumbling. It won't be long until Doc comes knocking on that Universal Title door. Now you have the world against you....you have that target on your back....

...........just........like.........me.

What is that old movie quote? "We're not so different, you and I." Those words have never been truer. We both won that title, both had our heads in the clouds, and both had our worlds close in around use like a trash compactor. And you, like me, will lose that belt. The only difference is, when you do, there will be nobody there to pick up the pieces with you. AX3 will be an afterthought and the name Jim Caedus will fade into people's memory banks as yesterdays news.

"You see, Jim, I was too cocky. So much so, that people began to take what I would say with a grain of salt. Nobody took me seriously in promo's because I spent my first six months here building myself up as the most dominant force in this business. Then, when I lost it all, I lost it all. Including my respect. That is the path you are on, Jim. One day you will lose that title, and all this tough talk and over the top ass-fuckin aggression will have been all for naught.

So you have made a point to call me every name in the book. Such big words, honestly I am surprised you understood anything you said. I'm not even sure you did. But when you called me all these things throughout the last month or so.....what you didn't realize is that those are all things I one time or another said to someone. You are becoming me. You are becoming the very thing you go out of your way to bash at every opportunity. How does that make you feel? To know that the one man you despise the most is the one man that anyone sees you as now. When I embarrassed you at Savage, and when I embarrass you at Warfare, nobody is going to think of you the same, Jimmy. They will think of you the same way they think of me. They will think "here we go again". History repeats itself. Sometimes you need to fall before you can truly get up. I've hit rock bottom, so the only place for me to go is up. For you, Jimmy, the only place to go is down. You're at the top. You're at the ceiling. You're at the surface, you've breathed your air, now you need to dive back to the depths of the darkness before you can come back up for another gulp of that good old fresh air.

You see, I am thinking clearly now. More clearly than ever before. Graves made a solid point in your guys promo last week vs. the Kings. I was only brought into AX3 to weaken Gabe Reno. I knew this. I was fine with this. Any chance I had to take that little turdsack to paintown, I'd take. Graves claimed that the "plan" was to hold every piece of gold in the business. Yes, I was on board. But I thought for sure that I was going to beat Gabe and hold the Universal Belt, and the rest of you would fall in line behind me. That was, as I mentioned before, the ego I had at the time. That was my clouded judgement. But then when you, of all people, the inbred badass himself, stole the title off Gabe Reno's lifeless body......I knew it was all about to change. I knew AX3 was going to crumble. I knew AX3 was going to implode upon itself like a neutron star. That many egos in one place just isn't a good recipe. But I rode with it, because I knew either way, I came out the winner. Either I had a squad that had my back as I took the belt from Gabe Reno, or one of us--which happened to be you--took it and it was only a matter of time before I took it from them. But plans have changed, haven't they? The landscape of XWF has changed drastically since then. You, Jim, have changed drastically since then. You may not see it because your nappy beard may be blocking your eyes like one of those mop dogs that always seem to win the showcases for some reason, but you have. You are vulnerable now, and I proved that at Savage when I cuffed you to the ropes and took out Graves. You are beginning to crack under the pressure that belt brings. You know it, too. You see AX3 crumbling to ashes around you. More and more, every day, you are becoming more and more alone. I killed AX3.......and now, Jim, you're running from a ghost that won't stop chasing you. So Jim, for the first time since I have been here.....I feel like I can be truly honest. You have liberated me, and for that, I thank you. I am the underdog here. I haven't proven I can beat you, because I haven't beaten you. But, what I have done, is get into that unwashed cranium or yours. You are more aware of me now than ever before. You have no choice but to notice the chaos. But I know, also, what your response to this will be. "Fuck you, you fucking faggit fuck. Fuckity fuck, asshole, cock sucker, fucking fucky fuck fuck. Big dick. Fuck. I'm Jim Caedus." It is stale now, Jim. It's washed up. I've figured you out, and you know it. I'll admit, you were a tough nut to crack. I had to peel back a lot of layers until I could finally find what was underneath. The tough guy outside is a scared little boy on the inside.

So prepare, Jim. Prepare for the worst. Prepare for impending doom. Prepare for this like a locomotive with slashed brakes speeding towards you. Prepare for an approaching F5 tornado, like the final wave of a tsunami, like the lava of a volcano finally reaching it's destination. Prepare for this Jim, like you have never prepared for anything else in your entire life. Because as much as you try to reinforce your wall, when this storm hits....

There is nothing you can do about it.

Be ready, Jim.

Chaos

Is

Coming."

He took the coffee cup and threw it against the wall. Standing up, he exited the kitchen and headed towards the garage.

[Image: VEKmgNO.jpg]

XWF RECORD: 33-11-2
XWF Universal Champion: 1x
XWF Trios Tag Champion: 1x

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