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Topics - Brooks

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General Discussion / Hmmmm....
« on: February 05, 2016, 02:26:22 AM »
Dredd... Or Alex Brooks...

The Epicenter / Into the Light [2/2, SCC vs Wu]
« on: December 12, 2014, 02:14:19 PM »
A coliseum, or at least a studio set designed to look like one. Lying on the dirt floor is Chaos. He is naked except for bodypaint and a dirty beige loincloth. Surrounding the setting are seven doors.
Chaos blinks. He appears unaware of his surroundings. One door opens. Sitting behind the door is an old tube television with Chaos staring back at Chaos.

He blinks again.

TV(1): Hey yo Chaos , how you feeling today?

Chaos: I feel unified mate.

TV(1): Shit I’m feeling the same. This is paradise so enjoy the weather, a perfect time to get the boys together.

Chaos: Boys together?

TV(1): We need old school, new school pioneers, who can flip that shit like primal fear.
Suns up, man I’m calling the lads, one love, that’s twelve balls in a bag.

Chaos: Yo, am I on some bullshit and I ain’t talking about a poo that a bull did. I’m talking about that this. This sets the bar.

Suddenly five of the remaining six doors open and they are all occupied by the same model television with an image of Chaos staring out.

TV(1): He said ‘set’s the bar’ that’ll blow like Escobar, six dogs out the reservoir. Let’s play connect the stars. And paint a circus in the sky, yep He can start.

TV(2): Now we thought this crew should pull out. Something a little unusual. Sounds a bit like a musical. But doesn't matter we make any type of music cool.

TV(3): Yeah, uh, when I heard the word foot path, I just thought it meant it was a foot large.
But then I walked on a foot path, and I had a look and I swear it was a good yard.

TV(4): Rule of thumb, I never been the one to open up a can of worms. Never underestimate, cause some say you're the best today like Miranda Kerr. Hi Chaos.

TV (5): News flash alert. Something stirred underground where SHOOT Project lurks and in a cloud of weed smoke with a handful of Cheetos. I’m in beast mode – Wu, you better enter a cheat code.

ALL TV: Now check it out look who’s up in the mix, You can dream but you ain't seen nothing like this. This place is off charts like I’m waiting for a mate. So just give me match the  so I can take it away.

TV(1): You're like Outkast mixed with Southpark, And my suplex flow is like dominos, So when I bust out of the trap on the mat.  You're rude like Cube yelling ‘Fuck the police’, raise em up, It’s like all your Christmas’ came at once, Yes, you’re too much for these rookies, Chaos, let’s knock the dust off this pussy.

TV(2): Man I feel awesome, nah I mean awful. Yeah I’m pretty sure I put on weight since Autumn. Pass me the pork roll I don’t really walk anymore. Ever since I invented a gun that SHOOTs portals, Yeah my bodies gone bad. Trying to get myself a Hollywood tan, Chaos and Max go to Bali for a holiday man and put the weed in someone else’s body board bag

TV(3): You're the leader from the get go. Yes, I believed it even when they said no,Yeah it feels like half of your thoughts, Follow your heart, that’s par for the course, of course it ain’t easy, I can tell you that first hand but it’s all good. Look at us, studying the fundamentals. Back when we were young and now we’re up here on another level.

TV(4) This sounding like some Austin Powers shit, Someone gotta tell Maxy. This ain’t the 60’s, this ain’t the same mix, bag of lollies that ain't the same Frisbee. Interesting, yes I guess I can adjust, I guess it just means, That we gotta do it different, Good, and I’m glad cos the records are wrecking my discman.

TV(5): When I heard the lights on I said turn them off. Thought it was the main show from Circus Oz. I’m being serious, I don’t give a fuck. How I turning the ropes and switch up the jumps. Now I got the sick splash move. Walking round the city in my pink gum boots, If a hater wanna talk like ‘Wu, fuck you’,then tell your bodyguard Smash this cunt too.

TV(6): Last shot of the six shot revolver. Tree swinging in on a big fucking Cobra. Shit Wu it’s over with my honourable brethren. It’s destined, Mr. Orange done stepped in, the card shark the way I play in the car park. Doing doughies, spin a soldier out like a gut shot straight draw.

ALL TV: Ain’t nobody got time for that. So there goes the neighbourhood, get elevated with us. It's SHOOT Project, it’s a celebration bitches, good god. All the doors with televisions behind suddenly slam closed, leaving the intrepid Chaos scratching his head. The final seventh door opens and a light shines out of it.
Speaking to no one in particular Chaos opens his mouth.

Chaos: Am I dead?

All the TV rooms open again.

ALL TV: No you are not!

They close as quickly as they open.

Chaos walks towards the doorway, towards the light. He does he starts talking to himself.

“I like to make the canas bleed when I meditate to a german suplex. Obsess over thought process until the wristlocks make there way to my palms, are sweaty, once I'm coming ready. I carve a deadly backflip and rip past the petty. This man'll make them big shots look bent on weight. I came ahead of my time while others premature ejaculate. An addict of whips and kicks, obsessed. I'm cursed unless I get a hit and do monkey flips til' theres nothing left. I spent my youth like bad credit, got nothing to show. If money was the show I'd be bawling all up in this bro. I got that rough shit, something straight up shit, with sick kicks. Some beat around the bush like perverts looking in windows. While others pile driving for the cash indoors, fashion awards. They lacking rewards, I’m catching wreck with Soldiers. Wu, say your hard? I'mma laugh and raise my glass. Fuck your ego your only as dope as the citizens say you are.”

Chaos passes through the doorway. As he does the door slams shut behind him.  He finds himself in a tunnel with a dirt floor, illuminated only by the light at the end of it. As he walks towards the light he starts talking to himself again.

“You can find me in the hills but you don't try me on this shit kid with moves that be filthy, and grimy like a dish pig. I rip kicks and flips if you think it's a joke. I'm like a mad digesting hash cookie. My t is dope! Let's go twelve rounds and see who's the better Soldier. The only way you'd win is if I was your shadow. Who trained your suplexes and who's taking you to Vegas? Man you look retarded, who tied your fucking shoe laces? Cook up Frankensteiners like Jamie Oliver. Structure, form man. Fuck the, norm man. Chaos, born and rough like porn And I do back flips and like other spit water melon seeds. Slaughter red soldiers. Cos I thought of enemies. Any reason, season, please man. Three sixty five, it's three sixty degrees. And I don't quit.”

Chaos walks closer to the light.

“I ain't scared of dying or being missed. But I'm afraid as fuck of being deceased with a copycat bitch stealing my schtick. And having him twist my speech in every ring and show he hears and see. Dig myself out of my grave and beat him with his own clothes stick. Don't give a shit if you can spin backwards on canvas. I don't give a fuck about your silly moves. Damn I'm sorry, Wu. I don't know how to say this – but you’re  bustin' out the rubbish like Oscar the Grouch. Wish the Crocodile Hunter stuck a sock in your mouth.”


Chaos covers his mouth with his hand like his has something wrong.

“I might be slightly unbalanced. I might be wrestling lesbians because I like the challenge.”

Chaos reaches the light. He swishes his hand through like he doesn’t know what it is. He stops and turns around so his back his touching the light.

“I'm hopeless can't focus my intelligence, see I play them pokies hoping for five elephants. Just provoke this team and I'll settle it, geez. Don't worry 'bout me Wu. I won't sell my soul that's degrading. I'm Chaos - I hold my own like I'm masturbating. Not masquerading like puppets for another. Got married to the game last summer. But I'll still give you fucking Stunner. Wu, I’m not like you. Better hope you still drop. In this profession I’m like medicine. You got everyone stressing I’m there anti-depression medicine. I'll put you in the nosebleed section while you’re in the back row.”

Chaos falls backwards into the light.

The Epicenter / Let's Go [SCC vs Max Wu 1/2]
« on: November 12, 2014, 02:27:28 AM »
Chaos stands in the middle of an empty locker room. He is bouncing on his toes. He is wearing boxing shorts and boxing boots. He has boxing gloves on his hands. A close look at his face paint revels that he has painted his face in his stand black and red fare but has copied Mike Tyson's infamous facial tattoo.  He walks to the door and open it. He stands in the open door.

“Round like a circle, In a spiral. Like a wheel within a wheel; never ending, nor beginning and never spinning free. Bounce now."

Chaos out of the doorway. He is walking down a hallway, shuffling his shoulders and throwing short jabs out in front of himself. Left, right, left, left, right.

“Tick, tock, another day gone. Suns up, comes down, but it all moves along. Somehow, some way, it all falls into place and we might stand still but we all fit in space. The motion repeats as the ocean retreats, the tide comes back when it flows to the beach and the world goes around, around it goes. You know what, life is but a cycle.”

Chaos walks out of the hallway, into an empty warehouse. In the middle of the warehouse is an empty ring. He makes his way to the ring.

“Yeh everyday I wake to the same old paper and another fist fight with the same pissed of neighbour.  In the hope I work a night that might be a saviour. At least just enough to get me outta here and to the safe house with about a thousand beers and the big red chair with the birds eye view. The world at work while I sip my brews."

Chaos gets to the ring and looks under the apron. He pulls a stuffed toy tiger out from underneath and slides it under the bottom rope.

“Tick, tock, another day gone as one logs off and another logs on. Another child’s born and another man dies and as one gives up, well another man tries. It all makes sense like thoughts in my head. That we’re not much more than cause and effect. The world goes around, around it goes around like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind."

Chaos rolls under the bottom rope. He stands, pauses and stares at the entry way – like he is waiting for someone to appear. After a few moments, he starts clapping his gloves together and pacing the ring.

“He got me so impatient. He got me waiting. He got me steaming. But I'm not going to boil over because I am the champion of the people of Sin City. I can take it. Just while those smiles – they are beaming.”

Chaos stops and crouches down next to the tiger, giving it a scratch behind the ear.

“Maximillian Wu.”

He jumps up.

“He got me so mad; I'll jump through the buckle I'll hurt him so bad, cut the bone through the knuckle I don't give a fuck If I can't see cut my eyelids wide open like the wings of a butterfly. I sing for my supper I'll dance round the ring, and run rings round these other guys. When it's crunch time I won't be undermined. But won't throw a punch, I'm talking about my fucking mind. I'll jab like very other time. With my mouth guard in but I still got my tongue in my cheek. My game so unrefined, I make my own mother cry. Ain't no alumni, and you can tell by the way I say alumni. Chaos'll crush ya, stutter step I duck down left then send you lullaby. I the machete to your butter knife, hell im ready cause those bloody eyes are the window to your soul and bro; I'm pulling down the shutters; I've...”

Chaos walks away from the tiger. He hits the ropes with his back and hold and leans back like he is waiting for an unsighted opponent.

“I've never been scared of life, wont watch it pass me by in my bed. And I've never felt so alive, and my eyes have never looked so dead. And some of you might step but that's by the by. Man I can watch whole worlds crumble. So, Mister Maximillian Wu...”

He cracks his neck to the right.

“Just loosen your neck from side to side.”

He cracks his neck to the left.

“Then rumble, young man, rumble.”

Chaos bounces off the ropes and starts throwing combinations. Left. Right. Left. Duck and weave. Uppercut.

“I'll sing out to the masses, each round of clashes. Every swing, downed and damaged brings out the savage. The bell sounds and I'm cling bound and bandaged. Which brings round only those things mouthed in madness. You might have me on the ropes, it's gone beyond a joke. You can corner the Lion, no law of confinement will stop me from your throat. Provoking this beast you'll see my blood boil. The notion of peace in such toils the face of hopeless defeat. Shrug of a glance, switch stance, throw one, advance and watch you succumb to the dance, romance, the blood on our hands. Wu you can try to throw a blow but something tells me you ain't for fighting toe to toe. And I'm sure it ain't for lack of trying, it's just that the dying wont let go. It takes a particular touch, the way to deliver a punch. If your game isn't vicious enough then I'll play till The Standard is giving it up. Let him come, let him fall down now, said it once, said it all round town. "

Chaos drops his hands and shows his palms down by his sides.

“I get it done.”

He brings his hands back up and takes a conventional stance.

“Mister Wu gonna get 'em hung, when I come, better run, better haul out south.”

Chaos stands bouncing on his toes.

“I'm bouncing on my toes like...” 

Chaos stops bouncing.

“Let's go. Let's Go. Let's Go!”

The Epicenter / "Hi. I'm Edd..." [story]
« on: October 18, 2014, 03:03:16 PM »
Eddie Taylor is an Australian wrestler currently making a name for himself on the biggest stage of them all as the absurd Chaos. He is the current Sin City Championship Title for SHOOT Project. And he is well on his way to falling off his bar stool.

“I’m tellin’ Jarrad Hayne will fucking kill the NFL.” He slurs his words while drinking a beer.

“Look, Eddie… You’re my girl’s little brother. But you're telling me, so some Rugby wannabe is going to kill it in our sport you’re fuckin’ kidding yourself.”

“Hang on. Hang on. You are telling me that he won’t make it? You soft cocks where pads and helmets and ya saying he can’t do it.”

“Didn’t say that. Said he wouldn’t kill it.”

“Whatever, Jack. Whatever.” Eddie waves him off and takes another mouthful of his frothy beverage.

Jack just laughs.

Mia Taylor, the older sister of Eddie Taylor, walks over and wraps her arms around Jack and kisses him on the cheek. Jack looks at her and smiles.

“You’re bro’s had too much to drink, babe.”

Eddie overhears this and instantly turns back to Jack. “What would you know?” he blurts out indignantly.

Mia giggles. “Don’t worry ‘bout, E. He’s never been able to handle the drink.” She laughs some more.

“Shush, Mia. Beer drinking I can do. Better than you I drink.” His words come out slurred and jumbled.
Mia and Jack and look at Eddie and laugh.

Mia speaks first – “E.”


“You aren’t on camera.”


“Well, ya sounding like that weird motherfucker Chaos again. Think you had too much to drink.”

Mia makes a signal to the bartender to cut her brother off. While Jack just shakes his head and Eddie tries to make words come out of his mouth and they just sound like the last sounds of dying coyote. Mia walks back to her friends across the room.

Eddie taps Jack on the shoulder.

“Yes, Eddie?” Jack asks in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Who’s Mia’s friend?” Eddie gestures to a blonde girl sitting in the booth next to Mia.

Jack looks over and looks at the group of girls chatting amongst themselves.

“That’s Anna, kid.”

“She’s hot.”

“Stay away, Eddie.”

“I’m going to introcude mylelfs”

Jack makes a half-hearted attempt to stop Eddie as he gets off his stool. Eddie Taylor walks over to the girl’s booth. As he arrives he is shot a death stare by his sister, which is duly ignores. He leans over me and extends his hand out to Anna.

“Hi. I’m Edd…”

He doesn’t get to finish his introductory sentence as vomit escapes from his mouth all over the front of Anna.

The Epicenter / Sad Man's Smile [i/ii, v Aiden Miles, SCC Match]
« on: September 12, 2014, 06:19:10 PM »
The room is bare.

Fluorescent ceiling lights. White walls. No windows. White linoleum tiles.

Bare. Not empty.

In the middle of the room sits the SHOOT Project Sin City Champion, Chaos. He sits cross legged with his hands resting on his knees. He is naked except for a pair of beige briefs. Laid out in front of him is the Sin City Championship belt. Today, the trademark face paint of Chaos is solid red, no black outlines, just red and it stretches down his neck until his fades out in tendrils around his décolletage.

Chaos smiles a sad man’s smile.

“Were you neurotic as a child?”

He nods - a twitchy, jerky movement - possibly a nervous tic rather than a premeditated movement.

“Did they come around and watch your style?”

He nods.

“Did you have plans to be a star?”

He nods.

“Did you have plans to become more than you are?”

He nods.

“Maybe rock was in your dreams. Maybe being there was far too obscene.”

He nods.

“Swing it high and swing it low. Swing it anytime where you wanna go.”

He nods.

“You’re more than I am. I'm more than you are.”

He nods, but this time it a slow and deliberate movement – not like the previous twitchy nods.

“Yeah, alright.”

Chaos closes his eyes. He opens them. He closes them again and opens them back up. Not blinking, but slowly deliberate movements with discernible pauses between each. The rest of his body has remained perfectly still.

“Webster’s defines a standard as a level of quality, or achievement. That is considered acceptable or desirable.”

Chaos leans forward and strokes his championship belt in a loving manner.

“It must be good to be acceptable, Aiden. It must be good to be desirable. These are feelings that I am yet to experience. I try to be Dan Stein’s friend and he just treats me like a leper and blames me for all his pitfalls.  And Abigail Chase seems to think that I am some forward of… of… Truthfully I don’t know how she thinks of me, but she always seems repulsed by elegant musky aroma. Maybe I should shower before the next show and see might be more inviting.”

He grins.

“But, I am the Champion of Sin City. I have been chosen to represent the downtrodden, the underfed, the luckless and all those that come to Paradise. It is my domain to lift them from the rubble and ascend them to glory, as their champion. And nothing shall hold me back and no one will hold me down. Dan Stein neglected his role as champion of the people of Sin City and I will restore their faith in their champion for every moment I carry their beacon. I will feed them. I will prevent from living in sin. I will return their tithings. I will lift them to the sky and allow the zip back to earth to spread the message to those that cannot see. The people have their champion and their champion is me.”

Chaos nods. As if he agrees with everything he says.

He taps his right temple.

“Yeah, now, I don't mean to brag but I'm the Sin City king. Gone with the wind. SHOOT from the hip. And all across the strip no difference. Every den in the land, at home within. Man, it could be nothing like the hard life, shit still a sucker for the skyline. The open road's fine to sleep a couple of nights. But Sin City tells the story of a lifetime. Cut.”

Chaos looks up and to his right.

“Lights, Camera, Action. It's all that, everything you imagine. It's right there; you can reach out and grab it. Dreams turn reality with big smoke magic. Maybe I'm biased and maybe… Maybe it's just that I don't know no better. The city don't sleep, speakers at eleven and If they got a question this is what I tell them.”

“These city streets are endless. These bright lights catch the eye. I push it to the limit; I build it to the sky and anything can happen. It's on you to roll the dice, then hold tight and get ready to ride.”

Chaos centres his head and taps his left temple.

“Yeah, you could live the dream. You could have it fall in your lap. You could fall in love or fall through the cracks. Damn, tough call to avoid those traps. But in high-stakes business you gonna get that. Take it from the streets to the penthouse suites. All I need is a dream, a belief, a little luck and a whole lot of guts to achieve. Heart to the city and belly to the beast. Yeah, what you pay for, cheap thrills ain't cheap. You’ll pay a high price if you wanna taste this.”

Chaos rolls his palms over the title belt.

“All the good isn't always what it seems. But that's fine with me, this is where I wanna be. Amongst the bright lights and the beat of the city. In any direction my people are with me. We get busy, what a trip, what a blessing. You wanna question so let tell you.”

Chaos looks up and to the left.

“I'm home and I'm one for Sin City tonight. I'mma stay strong 'till the sun goes down, 'till the lights come out, 'till the lights go down and the sun comes up again. This is my City. This is my belt. These are my people and I am their Champion.”

Chaos looks down and at the belt. He looks up at the lights. He looks straight ahead.

“Aiden Miles. The Standard. You are facing me for the right to be champion of the people of Sin City. That is not a right you should take lightly. Should you defeat me and become their leader. You have obligation to lead them from the cesspools to the greenest of pastures. You must be there Moses. You must. If you are unwilling to accept that obligation, unwilling to undertake the oath of the Champion of Sin City then I must defeat you. I must ensure that the people that need me as their representative remain represented by me. I hope you understand that Aiden. It’s not about you or me. It’s about the people that need me. Sorry.”

Chaos smiles a sad man’s smile.

AMA - Soldiers, Staff, & Fans / AMAAAAAAAAAAAATE!
« on: August 25, 2014, 09:23:26 PM »
Ask me something. Nothing. Anything.

Chaos / Chaos (General Discussion)
« on: August 25, 2014, 05:45:55 PM »
A little self-absorbed I know, asking for feedback on the character.

I know I have been getting generally positive vibes from the Revolution Feedback threads. But I'm just looking for a little more in depth feedback on the thoughts on the character. I originally came up with the background of the character as way of writing along whatever tangent fell into my mind without being tied down with a personality, as I was Alex Brooks.

Does the Eddie Taylor(CD) side of things work, do I need more CD stuff? Does Chaos work for you, what doesn't. I know where I feel strongest with him, but just trying to get a feel of how the character is interpreted.

Don't feel it necessary to indulge me.

Chaos / Profile: Chaos
« on: August 24, 2014, 07:08:07 PM »
Name: Chaos
Handler: Greg Blaxland

Nicknames: None
Height: 6’0″
Weight: 230 lbs.
D.O.B.: Unknown
Music: “Circus” by Britney Spears
Alignment: Left of Centre
Personality: Chaos is generally light-hearted, often mocking aspects of his opponents personality.
History: None
Awards: SHOOT Project Sin City Championship(x1)
Wrestling Style: Technically excellent, extremely capable of counter wrestling, submissions and even flying. However, Chaos is far more likely to work for comedy spots than be involved in a wrestling classic.

Finisher Name: The Wafflejack
Description: Scoop straightjacket brainbuster

diving headbutt
spinning frankensteiner
Top Rope Splash and various other dives
powerbombs(on smaller guys)
DDT - Multiple variants
drop toe hold 
Suplexes - Multiple variants
Tree of Woe
camel clutch
cobra clutch
full nelson w/ bodyscissiors

The Epicenter / Champion [CD]
« on: August 17, 2014, 07:37:36 PM »
Eddie Taylor is over the moon with positive emotion. He has been sitting at his breakfast bench for what seems like an eternity. The effervescent smile stretches across his face. The glistening SHOOT Project Sin City Championship belt rests on the bench in front of him.

Never in one million years did this non-descript beach blonde boy for Wollongong, Australia ever think he was going to be a champion in the biggest and the best wrestling promotion in the world.

He just stares at the title belt; remnants of his Chaos face paint still litter his face. He rolls his fingertips over the leather, and the metal etching of the face plate. His eyes brighten as he feels every right and every divot of the belt.

Tears of joy roll down his face.

Ignorant of the time difference, he picks up his mobile phone. He slides the lock screen and punches in his pin code. He enters into his contact list and selects the entry “Dad”.

The phone does its thing.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice from the other end of the line.


“Yes. Ed? Is everything ok, it’s stupid o’clock over here. I think ya’ve given your mother a heart attack by waking her up.”

“I did it.”

“Did what, kiddo?”

“I won the title!”

“Nice. Thanks for the call. We’ll talk later. Goodnight.”

“Night, Dad.”

Eddie hangs up.

He is still smiling.

He keeps running his fingers over belt.

The door opens.

His sister, Mia Taylor, has returned home from her shift at the club. Eddie jumps up and gives her a massive hug. At first her face shows worry, but then over his shoulder she sees the glistening Sin City Championship belt from SHOOT Project sitting there. She smiles.

The Epicenter / Man in the Mirror [ii/ii, SCC vs Dan Stein]
« on: August 08, 2014, 03:42:31 PM »
It’s black, real black – so black that nothing can be seen. But sound can be heard. A methodical tapping, like a finger nail on glass. A rhythmic humming can also be heard underneath the tapping, but suddenly it all stops and there is darkness and there is silence.

“Now. Possibly. Maybe. Definitely. Probably. Never.”

A recognisable voice emanates from the dark, the distinct Australian twang of Chaos.

“Step right up, take a ringside seat bro. At the SHOOT Project big top, the midnight freak show. Where kids fiend ring dreams that seem majestic and line up at the Zoltar machine just to get big, mean. And walk with giants who shake up the system. But behind the carnival curtain see the makeup magicians. They wake up and listen, hear what's not for the public's ears, like Pinocchio poets played by profiting puppeteers. Talent sharks want blood, wrestlers hook them with the pep talk. See a full fashion show, just look at the catwalk. Corporate snakes, boardroom fellas, clowns that talk sham about their wealth are the fortune tellers. From fire flow breathers, come and witness the luminescence. To one match wonders disappearing like industry illusionists. Ringleaders with whips, quick, the fifteen minute fuse is lit. My mind paints movie script imagery that's ludicrous. From Australian basements where the wrestling is real to sunset shadow boxing in the African hills. I creep with a pack of dreamers, who are deep in the mountain, the wildcat trampolinists who are keeping you bouncing. Under the circus my thoughts design the Sin City Championship like Jonathan Cash walking the line without a net.”

A brilliant, blinding flash of light and everything fades to normal, a small cupboard sized room featuring black walls, a man and a mirror.

Chaos sits cross legged with his back to us, looking into a mirror. He is wearing a black SHOOT Project t-shirt and blue jeans. He has shaved his head and dyed it platinum blonde. His face is still painted red, but instead on the regular black highlights, he has used a gold highlight on his face.

He starts slowly and methodically tapping his left temple with the index finger of his left hand.

“If my head is a jungle, then I sow the seeds of positive thought to grow the trees into a fruit bag of groceries for my heart, my mind and my soul to feed. I kill the doubt; smoke the weeds, then its full steam ahead on the open seas. The place where I think and see lateral, to free the radical and dream of the magical.”

Chaos stops tapping, yet maintains his intense focus on his reflection.

“Sitting on the canopy, with a sunset stained mind that burns bright burgundy. The universe is in all of us, the spark in the dark that can surge my circuitry. Brainstorm and out breaks a whirlwind. I'm surging, the soundscape is magic like Merlin. Feel life in the blood, sit back and buzz.”

“Live, laugh, and love.”

Chaos grins. Not a happy grin, not a maniacal grin – but still a disturbing grin.

“Dan Stein -You're head is the jungle.”

Chaos starts slowly and methodically tapping his right temple with the index finger of his right hand.

“My head's a jungle with a view of earth, and I didn't really know what to do at first. Every thought is a seed so I used the dirt and let it grow until I opened up the universe. Now I bring to life, whatever I imagine. Eyes open, you're heading for a labyrinth. Full fields of flowers, trees to the heavens, and to win this war I won't need any weapons. Free in thought, cosmic bliss, and the speed of life through the forest mist. Airborne: no stopping the dream when my tummy is getting tickled by the top of the trees. It's a breath of life, and a burning rose, that's where I start my journey and return to home. Your imagination is a head trip, so enjoy the ride, it's the best shit.”

“Dan Stein – Welcome to my jungle.”

He stops tapping and spins around and looks at us.

“I get up with my head swung down low down step into the room. Please listen to me while I tell what I will do, or it will slip away, it will end too soon.”

“How in the hell did I get here?”

“Been in a daze for years, But I still can speak the truth.”

“Heaven knows where we all go. All we have is what we get. When it's gone when will I know
because I haven't got it yet. I’m swaying to the swing of the music. My arms wave in the air
I turn my head, our eyes make contact. It lets me know.”

“Yes. It lets me know. How the hell I got here, that I speak the truth.”

“So Dan, tell me. Did you find that ride? Did you finally fly?”

“While you sit there kicking, crying and bitching and saying gimme gimme gimme. Gimme what's mine.”

“You thought you had it all, yet you wanted more. No need for me, you slammed the door. You cut me loose. What were the chances that I'd walk in here and find your everything, my truth and...”

“My Championship, Dan.”

Chaos starts to rock back and forth, that grin stretching from ear to ear – metaphorically speaking of course.

“I can do this, I can do that. I can make myself break out of the track. Bet you’re thinking I can't do jack. Now the only thing I can't do is hold back. I can globe trot across the whole map. Rock a show; make the whole world soul clap. I can snap shots with my Kodak. I can space travel when I got it in my lungs, step planets, striking hotter than the sun. I can be faster than a bullet from a gun. I can chill on one, blood on a vibe. Talking to the earth mother, and now I'm on the other side. Stare God in the eye till my vision is blind.”

“I can do this, I can do that. I can make the whole damn arena react. I can fly tons of steel through the sky as an airplane. Shit I can move mountains with my brain. Ambition is the call to fight for me. I don't have to join an army to be all that I can be. I can call it how I see, I can exercise free speech. I can walk the beach with the fresh sky sea breeze. I can track my path in the sand through my footprints. I can capture life's garden in a books ink. You try to pin me with the cruel thumb of fear, but I can see your game and the truth is coming clear. I can feel the rain like cool summer tears and I can come back in a few hundred years. Look at the track record, our favourite high achievers. The common thread is - all bright believers. I can hurdle every single obstacle, with training, victory is optimal. Man, anything is possible.”

“I can do this, I can do that. I can make the whole damn arena react. We can send people into space and use laughter as medicine and drop bombs behind the mask of a president. I can see through the lies of our champion. I can hit rock bottom and pick myself up again. I can free myself from being tied up in prison. I can go the distance. I can mind-fuck the system. I can pick the lock, crack the code, ship this off, and stack the load. And I can change the mood with a gesture of my love. I can master my courage to fight another day. I can bend that spoon that tried to run away. I can tame the rage of a cage full of primates. So, I guess it's safe to say now - I can fall down the rabbit hole and make my way out.”

Chaos stops rocking.

“I’m moving forward with a positive frame of mind. Let me tell you, Dan, that your Sin City Championship will soon be mine.”

Chaos spins around and returns to gazing at himself in the mirror.

A brilliant, blinding flash of light and everything fades to black. But Chaos is still talking. To himself?

"What were some of the things you learned, or focused on to get, to get through, to get by? "

"Just this… this insane belief in my own ability to manifest things, this insane belief, you know that I think that it's ultimately complete sanity. But I believe that I am the creator and I believe that I create with every thought, and every word is... Every moment is pregnant with the next move in your life.”

“Tell me all the things you think.”

"I think people need to believe in stuff. And I think you need to believe you're involved in something here. Believe this whole thing your imagination. You know? "

"Like I’m in charge. I gotta live my life that way.”

“So I just gotta keep going and look at this as a wonder, look at it as a trip, ya know. Just go on this trip and just look at all this stuff. It's fantastic. I’m actually here and I’ve got a dream. I have to look at the dream as the actual thing."

"That's the fun part."

"And look at this time as a time where I’m really, really having fun."


The Epicenter / Little Red Riding Hood [i/ii, v Dan Stein, SCC]
« on: July 29, 2014, 06:22:12 PM »
Chaos stands wearing nothing but a coat made of wolf. He is standing in front of a white curtain and holding a sign that reads:

“The following is a faithful re-enactment featuring paid actors who look like real people.”

Chaos flips the sign he is holding and there is some more writing:

“Little Red Riding Hood”

Chaos waves goodbye and walks away. The film starts playing on the curtain.

As first the story prologue rolls up the screen:

Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a little riding hood of red velvet, which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else; so she was always called 'Little Red Riding Hood.'

The words of the prologue fade out and we see a mother who could be anyone and an actress playing Little Red Riding Hood who looks strikingly similar to Molly.
One day her mother said to her: “Come, Little Red Riding Hood, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, "Good morning", and don't peep into every corner before you do it.”

“I will take great care,” said Little Red Riding Hood to her mother, and gave her hand on it.

Chaos sticks his head up and covers his mouth with his hand.

“Oh know Molly is going into the woods alone. Oh sorry – watch on.”

The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as Little Red Riding Hood entered the wood, a wolf met her, and that wolf looked a hell of a lot like Dan Stein in wolf’s clothing. Red Riding Hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.

“Good day, Little Red Riding Hood,” said Steinwolf.
“Thank you kindly, Steinwolf.”

“Why are you away so early, Little Red Riding Hood?”

“To my grandmother's.”

"What have you got in your apron?”

“Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger.”

“Where does your grandmother live, Little Red Riding Hood?”

“A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know it,” replied Little Red Riding Hood.

Chaos once again sticks his head into view.

“Oh shit. Molly told Dan where her grandmother lives. It’s gonna get nasty.”

A really crudely drawn though bubble appears above the Steinwolf’s head 'What a tender young creature! What a nice plump mouthful - she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as to catch both.'

So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Red Riding Hood, and then he said: “See, Little Red Riding Hood, how pretty the flowers are about here - why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry.”

Little Red Riding Hood raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought: “Suppose I take grandmother some fresh flowers; that would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time.”

So she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.

Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked at the door.

“Who is there?”

“Little Red Riding Hood”' replied the Steinwolf. “She is bringing cake and wine; open the door.”

“Lift the latch” called out the grandmother, “I am too weak, and cannot get up.”

Steinwolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother's bed, and devoured her. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains.

Little Red Riding Hood, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother, and set out on the way to her.

The image of Little Red Riding Hood skipping freezes on the screen.

“Oh my goodness! Can you be that Dan Stein just ate that poor woman all sick and ill, and now he’s gonna try and devour that young lass. What an evil bastard.”

Chaos feigns a look of horror.

“Anyway watch on.”

She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself: “Oh dear! How uneasy I feel today, and at other times I like being with grandmother so much.” She called out: “Good morning,'” but received no answer; so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.

“Oh! Grandmother, what big ears you have!”

“All the better to hear you with, my child,” was the reply.

“But, Grandmother, what big eyes you have!” she said.

“All the better to see you with, my dear.”

“But, grandmother, what large hands you have!”

“All the better to hug you with.”

“Oh! But, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!”

“All the better to eat you with!”

And scarcely had Steinwolf said this, than with one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up Red Riding

Chaos pops up again.


He starts cackling like a school girl on an amphetamine high.

“Just kidding. I saw that coming. But that ain’t the end of the story. Ya think I’m gonna let Dan Stein get a win that easy. This is my movie. This is my Oscar. It ain’t going down that way. So please lather the butter on your popcorn and watch this masterpiece.”

When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed, fell asleep and began to snore very loud.

Chaos the Hunter was just passing the house with a crude thought bubble floating next to his head. “How the old woman is snoring! I must just see if she wants anything.” So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed, he saw that Steinwolf was lying in it.

“Do I find you here, you old sinner!” said Chaos the Hunter. “I have long sought you!”

But just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf.

Chaos appears in front of the paused screen to once again provide his own brand of commentary.

“Oh look me performing emergency surgery. If this was 1994 George Clooney would be so jealous.”

When he had made two snips, he saw the little red riding hood shining, and then he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying: “Ah, how frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf.”

After that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. Red Riding Hood, however, quickly fetched great stones with which they filled Steinwolf's belly, and when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones were so heavy that he collapsed at once, and fell dead.

Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf's skin and went home with it; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which Red Riding Hood had brought.

The screen goes black and Chaos dressed in wolf’s skin walks back out and stands in front of it.

“Now that is Oscar worthy. Did you see the performance of the Hunter? Outstanding, better than Brando, De Niro and Pacino combined.”

“But the point – fool me once Dan Stein, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And let me tell you Danny-boy…”

“I’ve got no shame.”


The Epicenter / One Breath [ii/ii v Ryan Shane, Solomon Richards.]
« on: July 21, 2014, 06:48:36 PM »
“One breath”

Chaos sits cross legged with a spot light illuminating him. He is wet hair is matted to his face. He looks nervous.

“As I sit and smell the flowers, the berries, the very fern that will excrete this aroma as I sit at the ferry terminal. With the sky above, my eye moved towards it, soaked up an image, freeze-framed the portrait. An instant, turned into an ocean of eternity. It's Vincent, filled with this emotion that is burning me. For what I saw before me needs no explanation, she just riveted my lungs there was no exhalation. So many questions darted through my frozen, pondering mind. My interest had arisen from her fondling spines and I must confess, that I am so impressed with the way she strides and the way she sighs and the way she glides. With those dreamers’ eyes, it's more than just a term that lies between her thighs and through these beer bottle flavours in my life. I see clear what can neighbour with my slice of bliss. The dormant evil that waits in the grunge, only to emerge after you have taken the plunge. And I don't understand how a serpent has a heart. While I'm just a man, a merchant with his cart and all I wanna do is barter a mere couple of phrases. I admit this is the clear trouble with gazes. To decode this combination, she's the glitch in my system. From chaos to what is simple, it's the hitch of encryption, it's the pursuit of the chase, and it’s the fun of the catch. To find that beautiful face, that lies under the latch. When you unlock the mystery, below undercover and you see the simple beauty in just getting to know one another. It's like my motor, she can just soothe cool. But only a few fools would ever risk it and look into those pupils. So I pluck my vocal chords, so I can sing to this butterfly. But I can't utter my thoughts, and they reverse to see her flutter by.”

Chaos wipes his hair out of his face.

“The glory that stands in front of me, it drives me and defines me. The chance to chase the moon to the sun to grab the Sin City Championship and hold it in my hands, and lift it above my head to roars of the crowd”

Chaos knocks on his head.

“In here.”

Chaos taps his heart.

“In here.”

“I want it. I need it.”

“Ryan. Solomon. Nothing against either of you, in golden silence or with golden voice; I’m living the dream but chasing the dragon on the imperial winds. The tail of the dragon is the shimmer of the lights of the Sin City Championship and those that wish to deny my chase must be dealt with.”

“Conspiracies and conundrums with not hold me down nor hold me back. I will give it my all and take my prize.”

“I must.”



Eddie Taylor and his sister Mia are sitting down in a booth in a diner, drinking coffee.

“Sis, its working, they are responding to me.”

“I guess you are.”

“I’m going to be the champ.”

“One step at a time, E, one step at a time.”

Eddie drinks a mouthful of his coffee. He drinks it back down on the table, his hands wrapped around the cup and looking off into the distance. He nods.


“Feel it in your chest, feel it in your heart. I need a place to lie, I need a place to start. If this ain't it, you've been lying all along, cause the path you laid girl, it only made me strong. Cause I was once a seed that needed, loving from the seasons feeded. Off your stream that's bleedin' treason, now I'm a tree breathing freedom. On my bank but you burnt those bridges, so now I stare across at you pile of bitches.”

Chaos wipes his brow. He looks over his right shoulder, like he is expecting someone to be there.

“Like something in the dark, the threat of glory haunts. You chase it, seek it and hope for it while it taunts you.”

“Ryan Shane – I am Chaos. I am a seeker, and while you sit, silent, patiently waiting for the error of judgment to come. I am always moving, darting and diving – looking. But, you. You, sit there watching, waiting – silently thinking I am your prey. But, I’m not your prey, because while you are still just waiting for your opportunity. I am circling around and taking my opportunity. I’m behind you slicing your throat ear to ear before you even know it.”

“Surprise motherfucker. That’s me.”

Chaos grins.


Mia Taylor looks at her brother who is lost in thought. He is looking right at her, but looking straight through her.

“E.” she speaks up.

He keeps staring.

“E.” she says just a little bit louder, enough to stir him from his thoughts. “What are you going to do if you lose?”

He shakes his head. “I won’t. I can’t. But if I do…” his voice trails.

“You’ll what?” she enquires.

“I’ll do what I need to do.” Eddie answers before taking another mouthful of his coffee.


“Solomon Richards, you’re chasing the dream. The same dream as I, so I guess that means one of us is going home disappointed. Too bad, so sad – but it’s not going to me. Look, you are good, really good. You’ve done something I can only dream of. You’ve won a championship here in SHOOT Project. That shit’s real, man. You’ve had the glory. You’ve had the spotlight. The very things I crave. And man, let me tell you. I’m so hungry right now. I’d just about eat a dead horse to make sure I’m in the ring Dan Stein.”

Chaos looks down and rubs his hand over his face.

“And if that means I need to go through you to do that. I will. Simple facts, just like the world in round. You’ve had the tasted that fine wine. You felt that supple leather. I haven’t even had a Happy Meal or sat on a prostitutes vinyl couch. While you’re trying to get it back, climbing that ladder again. I’m coming behind – knocking each rung off as I climb over you to get what I want. Nothing personal, dude. I just got to do what I got to do.”

“You understand that right?”

Chaos flicks his hair out of his face.

“When I wake each day, it's like a new timeless moment.  The chance to steer you dry as soon as your eyelids open. I push back the path that tipped the scales and made it to the sea in time to catch my shipped had sailed. Playing the game my way, with my mind in the zone like Michael. Recite my diary like I'm flying on a motorcycle, the easyrider on that road that stretches nations, life's speeding up and all I feel's acceleration with that wind in my face.  And I got that past in my back, and I got the prize in my eyes, and I got my passion intact. So I ride through the night and dream bright into the cosmos. Now all I see is green lights at every crossroads.”


Eddie Taylor looks at his sister Mia.

“Ya know, Mi. When I made this trip I was scared shitless of what it would become. I didn’t know if I was gonna head back to the ‘Gong with me tail between my legs. Thanks.”

Mia looks at her brother. “For what?”

“Bein’ my sister, ya know. Just bein’ here for me. Even if you are a stripper.”

“Dancer. Eddie.”


They both laugh.


Chaos is standing. Everything around him is bright. The SHOOT Project Helmet is in the background. A picture of the Sin City Championship belt is underneath the helmet.

“That flash of magic, with an imagination to match it. So catch it, it's classic, but it will not be contained in an industry man made, cause it runs through my veins. It pumps through my brain, through my name, nothing will change. Don't make me huff and puff and turn this fucker to flames. But enough of the games, my shadow is a tidal wave. My idol, there's a brighter way, fight for it night and day. I've built fires inspired to keep my hands warm, I've hopped through hurricanes, St-st-stepped through sandstorms. I've climbed cliffs, you can see what I'm dreaming. Even walked on water, just to be here this evening. So, here we go again, I gotta prove I'm no magician to you rabbit in a hat, fools are clueless to how I kick it. This is blood, sweat and tears. Flesh and bone a better way. A brotherhood of hope, with a megaphone at heaven’s gate. SHOOT me down, raise my head, walk my field of dreams instead. There's no way, you will march on top of me, it’s not how this is going to be. Lift my feet, raise my head. Love and sweat and tears I've bled, create the path I see ahead…”

“So I guess I gotta...”

“Walk my way instead.”

Chaos walks away leaving just the Helmet and the Championship image.

The Epicenter / Triangles [i/ii, v Solomon Richards & Ryan Shane]
« on: July 11, 2014, 07:08:21 PM »
He wears his hair wavy, shoulder length and black. He paints his body Coca-Cola red. He outlines his eyes with black eye liner and has two black tears under his right eye. He is wearing an immaculate top of the line dinner suit jack and nothing but a pair of boxer shorts for pants. He has black leather shoes of the exquisite variety, and his perfectly white socks come to just below his knees and are folded back over themselves neatly.

He is Chaos.

And he is sitting on a toilet in a public cubicle. He is chewing on fingernails with small rapid movements, like a rabbit on meth.

“They’re watching.”

His head pivots side to side.

“They’re in the walls. But I think I’m safe here.”

He knocks on the wall.

“I think I’m safe here. They don’t want me talking about triangles. They are worried if I talk about triangles I will bring down the Administration. But I need to talk about triangle. I’m one side of a triangle. The other sides are Ryan Shane and Solomon Richards. If they don’t stop me, I win a date with Dan Stein. I like Dan Stein, he’s cuter than Tad Hamilton and I tried to win a date with Tad Hamilton but they said that I wasn’t female enough.”

“So sexist.”

“But that rampant sexism won’t stop me talking about triangles and making that I am top of the pile at the end of the night at Revolution one twenty seven to ensure that I am the one winning the date of a lifetime with Dan Stein.”


Chaos puts his ear against the wall. He starts talking in a whisper.

“They are listening, but I must tell you about triangles. If I don’t tell you about triangles than I will have left the world down and the Administration will win. We cannot let the Administration win, not without a fight. We cannot just accept the facts without asking why. That is why I must tell you about the triangles.”

Chaos awkwardly taps his right temple with his left index finger.

“I know.”

Chaos equally as awkwardly taps his left temple with his right index finger.

“Yes I do.”

He folds his arms across his chest.

“Triangles can be classified according to the relative lengths of their sides. In an equilateral triangle all sides have the same length. An equilateral triangle is also a regular polygon with all angles measuring sixty degrees.”

“In an isosceles triangle, two sides are equal in length. An isosceles triangle also has two angles of the same measure; namely, the angles opposite to the two sides of the same length; this fact is the content of the isosceles triangle theorem, which was known by Euclid. Some mathematicians define an isosceles triangle to have exactly two equal sides, whereas others define an isosceles triangle as one with at least two equal sides.  The latter definition would make all equilateral triangles isosceles triangles. The forty five–forty five-ninety right triangle, which appears in the tetrakis square tiling, is isosceles. In a scalene triangle, all sides are unequal, and equivalently all angles are unequal. Right triangles are scalene if and only if not isosceles.”

“In diagrams representing triangles, ‘tick’ marks along the sides are used to denote sides of equal lengths – the equilateral triangle has tick marks on all 3 sides, the isosceles on two sides. The scalene has single, double, and triple tick marks, indicating that no sides are equal. Similarly, arcs on the inside of the vertices are used to indicate equal angles. The equilateral triangle indicates all three angles are equal; the isosceles shows two identical angles. The scalene indicates by one, two, and three arcs that no angles are equal.”

Chaos suddenly stops talking. He raises his finger to his mouth and makes the universal “Shh” sign. After about ten seconds he takes his finger down.

“Triangles. It’s a conspiracy, man. No triangle is created much like me and Ryan Shane and Solomon Richards. We are not created equal, was all travel different lines and work different angles. But yet we all make the one triangle. The triangle of contendership under the Sin City Championship and it’s important to remember whether we are isosceles, equilateral or right that only one of us can earn the right to wrap our arms around Dan Stein for that Championship. It’s what we must to take it. Got to pluck that eyelash and be the top of the triangle. But be aware we can’t be Humpty Dumpty on the brink of losing of our balance. Must be the winner, must break the Triangle and prevent the Administration from controlling our minds.”

Once again, he stops talking like he is worried that someone is listening. He looks around his cubicle and nervously scratches the inside of his left thigh.

“Stories, they don’t want me to tell you anyone. That’s why I need to spill the milk about Triangles and what they can do.”

“There are hundreds of different constructions that find a special point associated with and often inside a triangle, satisfying some unique property: see the references section for a catalogue of them. Often they are constructed by finding three lines associated in a symmetrical way with the three sides or vertices and then proving that the three lines meet in a single point: an important tool for proving the existence of these is Ceva's theorem, which gives a criterion for determining when three such lines are concurrent. Similarly, lines associated with a triangle are often constructed by proving that three symmetrically constructed points are collinear: here Menelaus' theorem gives a useful general criterion. In this section just a few of the most commonly encountered constructions are explained.”

“A perpendicular bisector of a side of a triangle is a straight line passing through the midpoint of the side and being perpendicular to it. The three perpendicular bisectors meet in a single point, the triangle's circumcentre; this point is the centre of the circumcircle, the circle passing through all three vertices. The diameter of this circle, called the circumdiameter, can be found from the law of sines stated above. The circumcircle's radius is called the circumradius.”

“Thales' theorem implies that if the circumcentre is located on one side of the triangle, then the opposite angle is a right one. If the circumcentre is located inside the triangle, then the triangle is acute; if the circumcentre is located outside the triangle, then the triangle is obtuse.”

“An altitude of a triangle is a straight line through a vertex and perpendicular to the opposite side. This opposite side is called the base of the altitude, and the point where the altitude intersects the base is called the foot of the altitude. The length of the altitude is the distance between the base and the vertex. The three altitudes intersect in a single point, called the orthocentre of the triangle. The orthocentre lies inside the triangle if an orthocentre of the triangle is acute.”

“An angle bisector of a triangle is a straight line through a vertex which cuts the corresponding angle in half. The three angle bisectors intersect in a single point, the incentre, the centre of the triangle's incircle. The incircle is the circle which lies inside the triangle and touches all three sides. Its radius is called the inradius. There are three other important circles, the excircles; they lie outside the triangle and touch one side as well as the extensions of the other two. The centres of the in- and excircles form an orthocentric system.”

“A median of a triangle is a straight line through a vertex and the midpoint of the opposite side, and divides the triangle into two equal areas. The three medians intersect in a single point, the triangle's centroid or geometric barycentre. The centroid of a rigid triangular object is also its centre: the object can be balanced on its centroid in a uniform gravitational field. The centroid cuts every median in the ratio two to one.”

“The midpoints of the three sides and the feet of the three altitudes all lie on a single circle, the triangle's nine-point circle. The remaining three points for which it is named are the midpoints of the portion of altitude between the vertices and the orthocentre. The radius of the nine-point circle is half that of the circumcircle. It touches the incircle at the Feuerbach point and the three excircles.”

“The centroid, orthocentre, circumcentre and centre of the nine-point circle all lie on a single line, known as Euler's line. The centre of the nine-point circle lies at the midpoint between the orthocentre and the circumcentre, and the distance between the centroid and the circumcentre is half that between the centroid and the orthocentre.”

“The centre of the incircle is not in general located on Euler's line.”

“If one reflects a median in the angle bisector that passes through the same vertex, one obtains asymmedian. The three symmedians intersect in a single point, the symmedian point of the triangle.”

Chaos stands up on the toilet seat and raises his arms above his head.

“Whoa. Mind blown. But now you know what I know so they can’t just stop me because they know that I know, because you know and you ensure that the conspiracy is no longer perpetuated by the Administration. They can’t stop me from telling me story and hopefully they don’t come and stop me from beating Solomon Richards and Ryan Shane because it would be a tragedy if those they continue to create the Triangle conspiracy come out and stop me from emerging from the triangle of Revolution one twenty seven. That would be…"

He cocks his head to the right.


He straightens his head.

“I dunno. But I have done the right thing. I will do right thing and I will make sure that I don’t get stuck on you.”

He crouches.

“Gotta win.”

Chaos leaps off the toilet and fly kicks the cubicle door open and lands on all four like a big cat stalking its prey.

“I’m coming. They’re coming. I’m flying. They’re flying. And I am… bringing Wafflejack. Gonna stop ‘em all like Ash Ketchum catchin’ em all."

Chaos stands up right.

“I am Chaos and I will do what I need to do to make sure that I emerge as the Champion of the Isosceles. As much as I like Solomon and Ryan I really want to make sure that I get the chance to wrap my arms around Dan Stein for a second time. “

He salutes.


He walks off in an exaggerated military march. He has a length of toilet paper hanging out the back of his boxer shorts, with the phrase “Save me from yourself” written in black marker on it.”

The Epicenter / An Old Drunk at a Stripclub [story]
« on: July 08, 2014, 05:57:37 PM »
Eddie Taylor is bored, waiting impatiently, at the backdoor of Club Paradise. The solid steel door dominates the barren urban landscape; it is surprisingly clean for the back of a strip club. An old drunk leans the green waste bin, drinking from a brown paper bag. Eddie watches him with a careful eye.

The steel door open and out walks Mia Taylor, Eddie’s sister. Eddie walks up to her and they exchange a sibling hug as a greeting. The old drunk yells out across the carpark, his words slurred by the effects of alcohol.

“Don’ worry ‘bout that one. She gonna giv’ya nothin’.”

Mia grabs Eddie’s shoulder, but he turns to confront the old fool.

“That’s my sister.” Says Eddie as he angrily pokes the old fool in the chest.

“Eddie leave it.” His sister pleads with him.

The old drunk looks at Eddie, then at Mia and finally back to Eddie. He shakes his head.

“She sexy, but that’s not fuckin’ right man.” He swigs brown his bag. “Ya can’t be fuckin’ ya sister. That’s just wrong.”

Rage boils over Eddie’s face. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothin’ wrong with me. Just sayin’ it’s wrong to be fuckin’ ya sister.” Says the drunk as he continues to drink from his bottle.

“Eddie. Just leave him. Let’s go home.” Mia pleads grabbing her brother’s arm.

Eddie turns to his sister, rage filling his face. “I ain’t turning the other cheek tonight. This fool thinks he can be rude and disrespectful. I’ll teach him a lesson.”

The old drunk over hears Eddie’s anger filled statement.

“Let’s dance cowboy.” The drunk says as he hastily drinks the last drop from his bottle. He shapes up in a bare knuckle boxer’s stance.

“Eddie…” Mia trails off as her brother has got ready to fight.

“Listen, old man. I will give you one last chance to step down just in case you don’t know who I am.”

The drunk laughs.

“What’s funny?”

“I don’t care who you fuckin’ are. Coz’ you ain’t fuckin’ me.”

“Well, who are you then?”

“I’m Jerry fuckin’ Eisenhower.”

A puzzled look washes over Eddie’s face.


“Jerry Eisenhower, motherfucker.”

“Is that supposed to me impress you old fool. I’m Eddie Taylor. SHOOT Project Soldier.”

“Oooh. I'm fuckin’ scared.” The drunk feigns shaking at the mention of SHOOT Project. “SHOOT Project, huh? Well, Mr. Fuckin’ Taylor. Lemme tell ya somethin’ ‘bout SHOOT Project. Fuckin’ been there. Fuckin’ done that.”

“Has-been.” Eddie interjects rather insultingly.

“Better than being a fuckin’ never was. But I’m gonna tella ya somethin’ ‘bout SHOOT Project. Ya know, Alex Brooks. He’s in Mexico doin’ flippy floppy bullshit right now. But, he was the Rule of Surrnder Champ.”


“Well… I fuckin’ trained ‘im. He was the first one to make that badass motherfuck Corazon tap. Ya know who trained him up for that?”

Eddie with the rage subsiding and boredom returning is now over the whole confrontation, but he still humours Jerry Eisenhower.

“Let me guess, you?”

“Thas right me. I took that little kid, fresh off his momma’s tit and made him a champion. Me. Jerry Eisenhower.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m over this.”

Eddie turns his back on Jerry, and taps his sister on the shoulder. “Let’s go Mia.”

Mia looks over her shoulder and sees Eisenhower still standing in boxer’s stance. “You didn’t hit him?”

“Felt sorry for him.”

Mia and Eddie walk away from the scene. Jerry stands there in boxer’s stance slow to react to the end of the non-fight, as he realises that nothing is going to happen he drops his fists and yells out.

“Ya need a trainer Taylor?”

“No.” Eddie shouts, not looking back.

“Ya got a dollar than?”

The Epicenter / Negative Reviews (Story)
« on: June 27, 2014, 07:38:17 PM »
Eddie Taylor is sitting on his couch in the apartment that he shares with his sister Mia. He is wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a plan black SHOOT Project T-shirt, because he gets an unlimited supply from the merchandising department and it's cheaper than buying his own shirts. He has a laptop on his lap and a look of frustration on his face. Mia, as usual is lazing on a beanbag playing on her IPad. She is in a pair of denim short shorts and a pink tank-top.

“I can't believe this!” Eddie yells at the screen of his laptop.

Mia looks up from her IPad. “What's up, E?”

“This.” Eddie pokes his finger at his laptop, but not showing Mia what has him so frustrated.

“Yeh, what, E. I haven't got X-Ray vision, ya know. I can't see it.”

“Someone on the SHOOT project forums in the fan reviews of the last show.” Eddie keeps poking his finger at the screen.

“What did they say?”

Eddie reads from his laptop's screen. “Chaos is weird but in a way (to me) like an improviser who is trying too hard on stage to say weird stuff for the sake of being weird and getting laughs.”

“So what? Someone doesn't like Chaos. You've been getting mostly positive reviews.”

“But. Ugh! I can't win!” Eddie slams the  laptop closed in a fit of frustration. “I get told I'm boring and fans can't connect with me. Now I've got fans say I'm trying too hard.”

Eddie tosses his laptop on the couch next to him it bounces on the lounge. He gets up off the couch rather aggressively.

“I'm going for a run.”

Eddie walks to the front door of the apartment and grabs what appears to be a set of keys from a counter basket next to the door. He opens the door and puts some headphones in his ears that he picked up at the same time as the keys.

“Go for it, E. Clear ya head.” Mia returns her attention to her IPad as Eddie walks out the front door closing it a little harder than he needs to behind himself.

Eddie Taylor, Australian Wrestler currently working under the pseudonym, Chaos in one of the world’s most prestigious wrestling federations, SHOOT Project. Eddie debuted in The LAW - The League of Australian Wrestlers, that is, when he was a mere seventeen years old. He worked hard at his training, and learned his trade from the Australian Legend, Max “Mad Dog” Marsdon. When he was twenty two he decided to follow his dream of wrestling on the big stage. He went to the United States and struggled to gain any foothold in the industry. He returned home to his parents and the comfortable bubble of The LAW. Periodically, he would travel to the US and work a few shows but he would always return home dejected, no one was interested in his style.

He was boring.

Eddie Taylor, while probably, the single most talented wrestler to have ever been produced in Australia was bland. He was excellent technically, and could fly with precision without being a spot monkey. He knew the value of psychology in the ring. He sold so well he could sell beach front property in Iowa. But, he had one glaring flaw – for all his talent in the ring, he could not connect with the fans outside of it. It was as if he was so focussed on the ring, he forgot that people were paying to see him.
On his last chance tour, as he called it. Eddie was able to secure a meeting with one of the bosses that said he wasn’t going to make it. In this meeting, it finally dawned on him that if he was going to make it to the Holy Grail of being a star in the United States of America, he was going to have to be more that the greatest wrestler ever. He would need to become an entertainer.

He gave birth to the deliberately absurd character, he has dubbed, Chaos.

Eddie is not a natural entertainer, this have been evident in his first few appearances as his attempts at comedy have appeared stilted at best. He has, however, been able to grab a few laughs along the way and has shown enough promise to be granted an early title shot against Dan Stein for the Sin City Championship; while he came out short he certainly raised some eyebrows in the match. Firstly, coming out dressed as Molly, and then with those “Kiss him better” chops.

Hopefully, we will see more improvement from Eddie Taylor and with luck and hard work, his growth will open to the door for more Australian wrestlers to crack the big time. We thought, Dina Bryce might have been that person but with her real career as a nurse taking precedence over her hobby we, career ring jockeys, are pinning our hopes of Chaos.

Yours in wrestling,
“Wicked” Will Marsdon.

PS: See you in Vegas, Eddie.

The Epicenter / I Need a Dollar Part 2 [ii/ii, vs Dan Stein, SCC]
« on: June 03, 2014, 06:21:31 AM »
This is not Club Paradise.

Chaos is standing next to a pole, atop a glass table. He is wearing a “schoolgirl” uniform. In front of his an eighties ghetto blaster, one of the one's with a CD player and two chairs with mannequins seated in front of him. One mannequin is presumable meant to be Dan Stein as it is wearing a Dan Stein T-shirt, and it's hand had been strategically placed in its crotch. The other is, again presumably meant to be Molly, as it is dressed in a bark blue business suit and has a fire red wig.

Chaos reaches forward to press play on the CD player. A long enough pause at the start of the music allows him to get back to the pole, as the opening bars of piano begin playing it becomes clear that the song that Chaos will be stripping to will be 'I Need a Dollar' by Aloe Blacc

I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need, hey, hey
Well, I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need, hey, hey
Said I need dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need
And if I share with you my story would you share your dollar with me?

Chaos spins on the polls and points out at 'Dan Stein' and 'Molly' before removing his top and revealing his chest has been painted with a portrait of Dan Stein. Chaos kisses right, and he spins around the pole and places it on the lips of the painted Dan Stein.

Bad times are coming and I reap what I don't sow, hey, hey
Well, let me tell you something, all that glitters ain't gold, hey, hey
It's been a long old trouble, long old troublesome road
And I'm looking for somebody, come and help me carry this load

Chaos continues to spin around the pole, then he slides down the pole and army crawls to the front of the glass stage and then starts dry humping the stage.

I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need, hey, hey
Well, I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need

He points out at 'Molly' while doing it. He raises to a seated position,  before standing and ripping  his skirt off to reveal a g-string with the face of Molly on it.

Well, I don't know if I'm walking on solid ground
'Cause everything around me is falling down
And all I want is for someone to help me

Chaos returns to the pole and spins around the pole some more before collapsing on to the stage from dizziness.

I had a job but the boss man let me go, he said
"I'm sorry but I won't be needing your help no more", I said
"Please mister boss man, I need this job more than you know"
But he gave me my last pay check and he sent me on out the door

Chaos climbs to his feet and starts running his hands all over his body. He rubs his thighs and his chest and tweaks his nipples. He puts his hands behind his hand and does some pelvic thrusts to the music.

Well, I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need, hey, hey
Said I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need, hey, hey
And I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need
And if I share with you my story, would you share your dollar with me?

As the chorus comes to end Chaos reaches and presses stop on the CD player. He slides forward to the edge of his glass platform so that his legs are hanging over. He squeezes his right boob with his left hand a little, while addressing his 'audience'.

“Did you like the show, Danny?”

Chaos massages his other pectoral muscle.

“I really hope so. I put a lot of effort into it. I thought I had to treat you to a five-star effort given that you are the current Sin City champion and this is Paradise. You know the place where millions upon millions people from here and abroad come to live their dreams...

Chaos leans forward so that he is as close to 'Dan Stein' as Lance Stephenson is to LeBron.

“And watch them die.”

Chaos leans back and smiles as wide as Alice's Cheshire cat.

“But, you, Dan. You are one of the lucky ones. You are not a watermelon. You've won everything. You've had some setbacks and you've come out of the other side of those setbacks as The Man.”

“They told me that.”

Chaos taps his temple.

“Not these guys.”

Chaos points skyward.

“Or that guy.”

Chaos points outside.

“But those guys. Those guys also told me that you were bigger than the Beatles.”

Chaos reaches out and pats 'Dan Stein' on the head.

“And dude, let me tell you, that shit is impressive, because those guys, those guys were bigger than Jesus. Just ask John Lennon. Sorry I mean Ringo Starr. I forget that John Lennon was busy playing poker with that guy.”

Chaos points to the ceiling.

“Or was it that guy.”

Chaos points at the ground.

“I can never tell which Yoko Ono made things swing. Which is sorta the way Molly makes you swing, eh Dan? Sometimes you swing your dick with your right hand and sometimes you swing it with your left hand and sometimes you just measure it against Corey's. Hasn't anyone ever told you that you don't measure dicks with movie stars they always have the bigger dicks, otherwise how would of Woody Allen got away with bangin' Mia Farrow before he started bangin' his daughter. But you don't need a big dick to get the job done, right Molly?”

Chaos reaches out and pats Molly on the head.

“At least that's what those guys said.”

Chaos points over Molly's shoulder.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Meaningless penis jokes do not a good insult make. It was just I got caught up in the moment. I do apologise Dan. I really shouldn't have been talking about your penis. I should have been talking about how have been a fantastic Sin City Champion upholding the all the virtues that a champion should. How you make the company proud with your fan-friendly demeanour, how you always defend the title with honour and never resort to nefarious means to retain the title.”

Chaos pauses, then shakes his head.

“Um, Oops, I think I got you confused with someone else, possibly that virgin girl who used to play in the WNBA. Her name escapes me at the moment, but it was an obvious mistake to make, right?”

He looks at 'Dan Stein' and 'Molly' in front of him and cocks his head to the right and then to the left.

“You know Dan when I look at you I feel like that new girl at school that accidentally walks into the boys change room and seen your perfectly chiselled torso, you perfecting gleaming smile, your perfect hair sitting on the perfect head and I see your perfect eyes and stare at you longingly hoping to make you mine one day and how we can do it doggy style so we can both watch X-Files.”

Chaos grins broadly.

“And then...”

He deliberately lets the words hang in air.

“Bam! I wake up. Back to reality, sad and heartbroken. At Revolution One Twenty Four I will be all over you like yellow on corn. And I will be wrestling you too.”

Chaos jumps off the glass stage and bends over so his face is right next to 'Dan Stein'

“Love you Dan. MWAH!”

Chaos plants a kiss on the cheek of Dan Stein leaving a perfectly formed set of lips in pink lipstick.

“Remember me, I'm Chaos.”

He reaches down into the crotch of 'Dan Stein' and plucks a dollar bill from the waist of 'Dan's' pants.

“Thanks I needed that.”


Eddie Taylor is sitting in an apartment that is closer to sparse than lavish, though it is an upgrade from the hotel room he was staying in. Having pooled his resources with those of his sister, Mia. Who, against the wishes of her parent's has remained in Las Vegas to pursue a career as an exotic dancer parallel with her brother's wrestling career.

Sitting across from him, lazing on a beanbag, is his sister, Mia. She is wearing a short denim skirt and a loose fitting singlet top, also evident is her poor choice of bra colour as she wears a black bra under her white top.

“Ya know, Sis. Mum's pissed.” says the male Taylor.

“Not just at me. You too. She thinks you should have stayed home in the 'Gong and worked a real job.” Mia snipes back.

“Says my stripper sister.” laughs Eddie.

“Dancer.” she says with an air of indignation.

“Do men watch you dance?”


“Do you prance around in your undies?”


“Do people give you lots of dollar bills?”


“Stripper.” Eddies delivers this with a smirk.

“Ya know, you can be a real jerk sometimes.” his sister spits back.

Eddie laughs.

“Hey, Mia?” Eddie asks.

“What?” is the terse response.

“I need a dollar.” laughs Eddie.

Mia picks an empty porcelain mug up from next to her beanbag and throws it at her brother. He catches it and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

“I still need a dollar.” He laughs.

She jumps up with cat like reflexes and slaps him somewhere with an intention somewhere between playful and angry.

Eddie looks at her, but just accepts the fact that his sister slapped him. “That gives me an idea for Chaos.”

“What's that?” Mia enquiries.

“You'll see.” says Eddie Taylor with a smirk. “When are you at work next?”
“You are not coming to watch me.” Mia is firm with her answer.

“I wouldn't watch to my sister strip. Please give me some credit wouldya. Just want to know so I don't stop in when you are there next.”

Mia shakes her head in disbelief. “I'm off until Wednesday night.”


The Epicenter / Watermelons [i/ii, vs Dan Stein, SCC]
« on: May 31, 2014, 04:33:32 AM »
Eddie Taylor, the young wrestler from Australia, who is currently working in SHOOT Project under the pseudonym, Chaos is sitting in a diner booth with three other people, each with finished meals in front of them. A male and female who are older and if you were too guess are his parents and a second female who looks around the same age as Chaos. An educated guess based on her looks would let you assume that it is his sister.

"Thanks for coming over to visit, guys." Eddie says to the table.

"No sweat, kiddo." his father responds.

His mother is playing nervously who the salt and pepper. "I don't know, Edward. I don't think I like you being this Chaos person. It's not the Edward James Taylor I know.”

A look of frustration flashes across the face of Eddie before he speaks this time. “It's like I told you Mum. I wasn't getting work because people thought I was boring. I made Chaos up because I don't think he is boring. I can do what I want.”

“Did you have to dye your beautiful blonde hair to that horrible jet black colour.” his mother asks with obvious disappointment.

“Yes, Mum.” Eddie is short and sharp, obviously this has been a bone of contention for him and his family since they arrived in Las Vegas.

“Valerie, you really should just accept this is what Eddie wants to do.” his father interjects.

“But...” his mother trails off.

“Look, I know you don't like your little boy on the other side of the world. But, we always said we'd let our kids follow their dreams and this is Eddie's dream.” his father is firm in tone.

“He could do it at home, Jim.” his mother cuts her husband off tersely.

“What. He could make fifty bucks a show in front of twenty people at the Builders or Corrimal bowls. You seen it over here. They love this shit...”

“Jim...” Valerie Taylor cuts her husband off for the swearing.

“Point being.” he continues ignoring her look. “This is what he wants to do. And he's going to do it. You can either sit there sulking or you can enjoy the ride.”

“Mum. Dad. Stop” his sister speaks up, not yelling, but with enough of a raise voice to allow her parents to have her attention. “You guys need to stop fighting. Eddie is a wrestler. He's working here in Las Vegas and he's paying for our holiday. Be happy.”

“Thanks, Mia.” says Eddie who up until now has had head down staring at the empty plate in front of him while his parents argued.

“Sorry, Hun.” apolgises Valerie.

“Yeh, sorry, Kiddo.” says Jim Taylor.  “But your mother started it.”

“Dad!” Mia speaks up. “Enough.”

“Sorry.” says Jim Taylor leaving the commentary out of this apology.

“Also, Eddie, Mum, Dad. I have something to tell you.”

That particular statement draws raised eyebrows from all three family members.

“Yes?” says Jim, with a definite air of concern.

“When you guys go back home next week, I'll be staying. I got a job at Club Paradise.”

Eddie's mouth drops open. “That's a strip club!”


An empty room. Well, almost empty. There is a single wall in this room with a row of watermelons stacked on it. All in all, there is probably about ten watermelons all in a neat little line. Each watermelon is slightly larger than the last like they have been aligned in this manner by someone with an obsessive compulsive disorder. The very last watermelon in the line has a crudely drawn face on it.

Chaos walks into the room, he is wearing a medium grey business suit, with a light pink shirt and a deep pink tie. He is also holding to rockmelons right in front of his breasts.

“These would be perfect if they were Molly's Melons. Good size. Firm, and I can just taste the sweet succulent flesh in mouth as I fondle them with my tongue.”

Chaos nonchalantly tosses them backwards over his shoulders.

“As least that is what I would say if I was Dan Stein. But I'm not Dan Stein. I'm Chaos and I'm here to talk to you about watermelons.”

Chaos removes his jacket and drops it at his feet.

“Why am I here to talk about watermelons. Because I'm Chaos and I like watermelons. They are my favourite fruit, so I want to talk about watermelons.”

Chaos walks up to the first and just slams his head into it. Brutal. He picks up the largest peice of melon skin and sits it on top of his head like a helmet.

“And they hurt a lot less than a coconut when you want to make one into a fashionable helmet.”

Chaos riches over the watermelon wall and pulls a cricket bat up.

“I have lots of things to tell you about watermelons. Like did you know the watermelon is a vine that is originally from southern Africa and its fruit, which coincendenally called a watermelon is actaully a special kind of fruit called a pepo. A berry with a thick rind and a soft fleshy centre.”

Chaos swings his cricket bat and obliterates the second of the watermelons.

“A bit like Dan Stein really, thick on the outside and soft in the middle.”

Chaos picks up a chunk of red flesh and shoves it in his mouth. He eats it. its out a couple of seeds.

“But it's also tastes so good just like Molly.”

Chaos spits out a couple of seeds.

“As least that is what I would say if I was Dan Stein. But I'm not Dan Stein. I'm Chaos and I'm here to talk to you about watermelons.”

Chaos swings the cricket bat and smashes another peice of fruit into bits.

“Did you know there is evidence of cultivation of the watermelon in the Nile Valley. Seeds have been found in the tomb of the Pharoah Tutankhamun. Or that it is mentioned in the bible as a food eaten by the Israelites as the food they were held in bondage while in Egypt.”

“I like bondage.”

Chaos destroys another watermelon.

“As least that is what I would say if I was Dan Stein. But I'm not Dan Stein. I'm Chaos and I'm here to talk to you about watermelons.”

Chaos stands still for a moment and counts the watermelons on the wall in front of him.

“Did you know that the world's largest producer of the watermelon is China. Or that watermelon made its first appearance in an English dictionary around sixteen-fiveteen. Or that the water is nine percent sugar and ninety-one percent water.”

Chaos smashes another melon

“Or that the watermelon rinds are also edible, but many people avoid them because of their unappealing flavour."

Chaos brings the cricket bat back over his shoulder and brings it down vertically on a melon, splitting it in two.

“That's what I heard the ring girls says about Dan Stein.”

Chaos swings the bat knocking the two halves away.

“But I wouldn't know.”

Three watermelons are left in front of Chaos.

“I'm Chaos.”

Chaos swings the bat at one of the watermelons, but he stops short of hitting.

“I'm facing Dan Stein for the Sin City Championship. And I will win.”

Chaos smashes the first melon.


Chaos swings again and destroys the second melon.


Chaos takes a big windup and smashes the last watermelon, the one with the face into lots of tiny pieces.


Chaos removes his watermelon helmet and sits it on the wall.

“New Champion.”

Chaos picks the watermelon helmet back up and tosses it into the air and then swings the cricket bat and hits the helmet as far as he can as it shatters into peices in flight.

“At least that is what I would I say if I was a watermelon.”

The Epicenter / Something. Something. [vs Blair/Winter]
« on: May 17, 2014, 05:44:02 AM »
Eddie Taylor sat in his nondescript Las Vegas hotel room. His dyed black hair partially covers his face, as he sits on the end of his bed. He stares at himself in the mirror. Thinking, just thinking. He has a lot of time to think, being alone in a foreign land.

Sometimes he likes to sit there and think. To think about the future and the doors that he can open. To think about the past and those doors that were slammed in his face.

Sometimes he likes to be alone. Sometimes he didn’t.

The desert air of Las Vegas was different to ocean air of home, but he didn’t mind. He has a dream to live and future to create.

Las Vegas was SHOOT Project. SHOOT Project was the game.

Eddie smiles as he stands from the end of his bed and walks into the hotel’s bathroom alcove.


The SHOOT Project conference was full. Not full of people, but full of life size cardboard representations of people. The podium on the stage is standing lonely waiting for someone to arrive to field questions from the “masses of reporters” in attendance.  One reporter in a terrible purple suit with canary shirt and a red face appears to be picking his nose and closer inspection indicates that it is indeed the one of newcomers to SHOOT Project, Chaos and he is picking his nose.

After finishing his fossicking mission he turns to the reporter to his right.

“I wish this bloody Chaos fella would show up.”

He nods.

“You’re right. It’s just not cricket that he is late to this sort of thing. I mean I could be home watching porn and eating popcorn.”

He nods again.

“Yeh, I hate when popcorn shells get in my pubic hair too.”


“I know. I know. Oh look he’s here.”

Chaos jumps out of his seat and climbs up onto the stage to stand behind the podium and taps the microphone.

“Is this on?”

He listens to his voice echo throughout the packed hall.

“Thank you. Thank you. Your overwhelming kindness is appreciated, so appreciated that I might just go home do some things with a pickle jar that would make even a German blush.”

“Though, in all seriousness, the maleficent Chaos is his here to discuss his upcoming debut as a SHOOT Project soldier. And what will certainly be a magnificent debut in the Epicenter because, without a shadow of a doubt he makes it hot like a firework.”

Chaos does a shoulder shimmy.

“Any questions?”

Chaos stares at the crowd.

“Yes, you in the front, with the baby shit green tie.”

Chaos leans on the podium as if he is listening intently to the reporter.

“How do I feel about teaming with Cameron Ash? How do I feel about teaming with Cameron Ash? Well let me tell you about how I feel about teaming with Cameron Ash. I LOVE IT! See, Cameron Ash is going to come into the ring, he’s going to kick some arse and then me and the Cee Ash Baby are going to walking out of the Epicenter hand in hand as winners, as partners. Because WE ARE THE CHAMPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-ONS! Or as least we will be.”

“Are there any more questions? There HAS GOT to be more than one question.”

Chaos surveys the crowd.

“Any more questions for the one and only? You in the plaid jacket second row.”

Chaos leans forward on the podium to hear the question.

“How will I have Billy Winter and Elgin Blair? Hmm! Interesting question, maybe I will hire the Las Vegas Dog catchers and use their resources to ensure that I can get a firm hold of them and tie the up and use a choking collar to ensure they don't get away from me and then throw in the back of the van. I can take them back to the yard, throw them in the cage with water and kibble and if no one claims them I will put them to sleep in a way that will really piss off those left wing loony bin animal activist motherfuckers. Ya dig?”

Chaos claps.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. That's what I will do. Maybe. Or Maybe I will bring out the curling iron and we can have a pyjama party. All four of us in sexy lingerie, pillow fights and stories about boys and in the night when it is cold and we all asleep except for me, I will slide over next to Billy Winter or Elgin Blair, whichever one is cuter and reach into their pants and grab...

Chaos pauses for unnecessary drama.


A slap of the podium is followed by raucous self-approving laughter.

“Seriously. Seriously. Yes let me be serious for a minute. This SHOOT Project and I stand like a soldier, yeah. Strike like a tiger. I stand like a soldier, yeah. Punch like a champion”

Chaos gives a thumbs up to the back of the room.

“Yes, you right down the back you have a question? This will have to be the last one, I am running out of time.”

He turns his head to the right and cups his ear with his hand to hear.

“You want to know what? My phone number. Look I have to be honest I don't date reporters, especially butt ugly cardboard thin one like you. Sorry, don't mean to be harsh but I have always thought that honesty is the best policy.”

Chaos steps out from behind the podium.

“I'm off like milk in the summer sun.”

He jumps off the stage and runs past the reporters while raising the roof. He stops at the doors at the rear of the room and turns around, gives a bow and blows a kiss like he has given the performance off a lifetime.

The Epicenter / Sunrise. Sunset. [Story]
« on: May 14, 2014, 12:58:15 AM »

It was a peaceful time of morning. The thriving regional metropolis hadn’t got going but Edward Taylor didn’t mind. He enjoyed rising early and letting the fresh salty air fill his lungs. His blonde hair flops about in the early morning breeze as he sits on the sand watching the orange orb rise in the east.

“Winds of change.”

No one was really listening, but it wasn’t something for him to care about. He had a dream and had spent tireless years shirking school work, real jobs, and girlfriends. He had put it all on the line to achieve his dream. And now, now it was finally starting to come true. After knock back after knock back, rejection after rejection, one person had finally given him a glimmer of hope.

It was up to him.

It was up to him to be anything but boring. But, for the moment he was enjoying the peace. He was avoiding the chaos.A smile washed across the face of Edward James Taylor as he dug his fingers through the sand. He had an idea.

He knew how not to be boring.


Edward James Taylor stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror of a poorly lit bathroom. His blonde locks were now black and his face showed his own uncertainty about his change of appearance.

“No turning back.”

He said to himself. Eddie looked at himself a little longer before starting to apply paint to his face. Firstly he covered his face in a red paint, giving himself the appearance of a hornless Hellboy. He then ran black ink around his eyes to accentuate the area. He runs lines of the corner to break up the red, and then applies black lipstick, and trails of the edges to smear it a little.

He looks at himself. He smiles.

“Not boring now.”

Taylor reaches down to a small container and pulls up a contact lens, with a small amount of difficulty he inserts into his right eye. The coloured lens now turns his eye completely white. Eddie reaches for the second lens, he inserts. This lens colours his eye red. He blinks to adjust.


He nods.

“You’ll do well Eddie, you’ll do well.”

He flashes his teeth with a grin that would somewhere between menacing and mischievous.

Archive / [Story] Blonde Hair. Blue Eyes. Boring
« on: May 05, 2014, 07:09:19 PM »
[Blonde haired. Blue eyes. Boring.]

“Eddie, you’re bland.  Too bland for this industry.”

[At least that’s what the stereotypically suited exec sitting in front of him thought. But what does he know? He’s cut from the same cloth as everything other executive that came before him.]

“I’ll give it to you. You have talent. You can wrestle. I can use you. But, you are only ever going to be enhancement talent. Putting the guys over that connect with the crowd.”

[Eddie looked sad, tears welling in those youthful unabashedly blue puppy dog eyes.]


[Eddie was unable to speak.]

“I know you don’t like what you’re hearing right now. Unfortunately, this industry is full of people that look like you, walk like you and talk like you. You are just another carbon copy of yesterday’s carbon copy.”

[Says the cardboard cutout.]

“What can I do”

[A statement, not a question. The words struggle to leave the mouth of Edward James Taylor. His heart broken, His dream shattered. ]

“Honestly, Eddie, you can go back to Australia and be a big fish in a small pond. You’ve probably got enough talent to be a star in the developing scene down under; you’d be a star attraction wrestling crocodiles, boxing kangaroos and eating vegemite sandwiches…”

[Same words. Different face. Eddie had heard it all before. Go back to Australia, you’re too ordinary for this market. Blah. Blah. Blah.]

”…Or you could go back to your hotel room. And be different. Don’t follow the same well worn path that every starstruck youngster seeking a dream follows. This outside the box, break the mould, shatter the cookie cutter.”

[Eddie smiled. The blue eyes glowed bright.]

“Be something.”

[The suit immediately stood up and walked out of the office. As he opened the door he turned back to Edward James Taylor.]

“Then come and see me.”

[With a motion, he hustled Eddie out of the office; he had a skip in his step. For the first time ever he left a meeting he was smiling. He wasn’t told he wasn’t going to be anything more than dreaded enhancement talent. He was told to be something and he might have a shot.]

Storyline & Character Development / Empty Lockers [Brown]
« on: February 20, 2013, 09:26:14 PM »
The locker room was empty, except for one man. He was wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs, he stood solemnly in front of a locker. In less time than it takes to blink he unleashes a rage fuelled flurry of punches on the flimsy steel. He stops, pauses and swallows. Slowly he opens his locker room. He picks up an empty cardboard box up from the floor and uses his free arm to scrape the contents of his locker into the empty receptacle.

When the shelves of his locker are empty he just drops the box on the cold hard concrete. He slumps in a heap next to his box. He reaches into the bottom of his locker and pulls out a pair of football boots, still caked in mud.

He just holds them.

With the some fury he hurls them across the room, they hit the concrete walls with an audible clunk. He follows with an primordial scream, the whole purpose to release the pent up anger that is bubbling inside of him. He lifts himself on the floor and slams the locker door shut, causing the whole row to shake.

His name remains on the locker.


He kicks his box out in front of him as he leaves the locker room, not caring about its contents. As he passes his boots, he picks them up and tosses them into his box.

He reaches the locker room door and he is flanked by two security guards, both much smaller than him as he leaves.


As he gets out of the shower,  clad only in a towel, he is confronted by two men in the uniform of a security, and a much more distinguished man in an expensive, tailored suit. The suited individual hands him an empty cardboard box and wordlessly motions from him to follow. The leaves the showers and walk around to a bank of lockers.

They stop in front the required locker. The name tags reads.


One of the security personnel opens his locker. They proceed to carelessly dump his stuff in the empty box he was handed moments earlier.

Revolution / You Are Strong. [II/II vs Maya, SCCS]
« on: February 14, 2013, 10:09:24 PM »
His floppy blonde locks fall across his eyebrows. The SHOOT Project Helmet banner sits gloriously behind him. He has the chair around the wrong way concealing the logo on his T-Shirt. He is Alex Brooks and he will soon go into battle with Maya Nakashima.  Alex and Maya will compete in the SHOOT Project Championship Series. The match, as much as the title, means a great deal to the pair of Soldiers. It offers the both of them the chance for redemption at what they see as past failures. It offers them the chance to prove that earlier was due to genuine talent, and not because they were underestimated.

Alex is sporting some facial wounds from a vicious cage match in Mexico, but he won’t be using the battle scars as an excuse for defeat. That would not be fair to his opponent. If, Maya beat him in the ring, by fair means, he will acknowledge it. That is the right thing. If he takes the Mason Pierce route, then he will call him out on it. But, Maya Nakashima does not seem like that kind of person. Maya Nakashima seems like an honest, hardworking and honourable person. And this match will be great.

Alex Brooks smiles broadly, exposing the missing tooth, which was taken by the hands of Kenji Yamada.


You are not a failure.

You are one of the greatest success stories that SHOOT Project has ever produced. You are one of the strongest people that this company can ever claim to call its own. If I was able to talk terms of raw strength, I would be wrong. But when it comes to things like strength of spirit – you are most definitely the strongest person to every grace the halls of the Epicenter.

I don’t know of anyone else that could do what you have done. Most people, when they lose a loved one under the most tragic of circumstances, crumble in to a ball and wait for the world to move on. Not you, Maya. The loss of Shinya, as terrible as it is, has galvanised you into a stronger, more determined person. One who will not quit. One who will roll over and give way to the easy option.

You were not satisfied by the official reports of Shinya. You stood tall and looked under every rock and in every dark corner, until you had looked everywhere. And when you couldn’t find him, you returned to America to put yourself in the spotlight in the hope that if you couldn’t find Shinya, then maybe, just maybe he could find you.
You have refused to give up hope.

That’s not failure.

That’s courage.

That’s strength.

That’s success.

So, while internally it may feel like you have been a failure, I can assure from the bottom of everything that I hold dear. You are not a failure in any sense of the word. In fact, your strength of will and courage is something I hope to emulate.

I have seen no one else like you.

I have not seen anyone else with the ability to stand up the hurricane force that is Project: SCAR other than you. Sure, you took your battle scars, and sometimes it must have seemed like you lost the war. But you were victorious.

You survived the brutal treatment that they inflicted upon when they kidnapped you.

You saved your sister from the horrible actions of Liz Gaunt.

You found enough good inside you to embrace Elizabeth Gaunt. I would not have been able to do that.

And despite all of this, despite all of the physical, mental and emotional punishment that those men and women did to you, and despite their best attempts to break you. You are still here. You are still standing and you are still fighting the good fight.

That’s the furthest thing from a failure that you could possibly be.

Look at how many people have stayed strong in the face of Project: SCAR.

Diamond Del Carver took the fight. He’s gone.

Mike Dexter took one look in Corazon’s eyes and turned tail and ran to the nearest hole he could find.

Mason Pierce took to blindsiding tag team partners, and found the need to hire bodyguards because of what he experienced.

Alejandro is a broken man.

But above it all, there you are, Maya Nakashima.

Standing tall. Still fighting the good fight.

That is why I wish I could be like you.  I wish I was able to hold true to my values when confronted with the greatest adversities.


Just like you, I hold the Sin City Championship with utmost respect, and that means I must go out into that ring on Revolution and do absolutely everything within my power to inflict defeat upon you.

I wish I could let you defeat me. But that would be a hollow victory for you and I am sure it would a sour taste in your mouth, and I know you would not want that. I will not do that.

I will shake your hand with honour to start the match. And then we will compete to so who comes emerges victorious.

I’m not sure how I will do that at this point in time. I’m not sure how I can overcome someone who will fight until their last breath, just as I would. I guess I can hope that my conditioning in better than yours.

I don’t think I will be able to rely on any sort of speed advantage. Not against a whirling dervish as such as yourself.

I don’t think I can surprise you will any sort of aerial assault. Not when that is one of the greatest strengths of your style, that’s your ability to hit the lunatic high. That ability to break through the boundaries that frighten so many men, but not just to break through them to succeed and raise the bar above and beyond anything I could hope to achieve.

I could try to use the power game. But I’m not sure how. I’m not exactly skilled at it. I couldn’t imagine me using power bombs and piledrivers to defeat you. And I don’t think El Asso Wipo would have enough time to teach me how to skilfully execute a backbreaker with any efficiency.
So I’m at loss, as to how I can overcome you. Then, like you, I realise how much the Sin City Championship will mean to me. Then, I know, I will find everything within me.

Will it be enough?

I don’t know. But I’m sure going to find out.

I’m going find everything I can to find a way to defeat you. I will use every ounce of strength I have. I will keep gulping air until I am unable to gulp anymore. I will run on my legs until they burn from agony.
Because I don’t know how to do it any other way. I don’t know how to go at fifty per cent, eight per cent or even ninety nine. It’s one hundred per cent or nothing

Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes its not.

But if I don’t have enough and you defeat me. I hope you stay in the ring long enough for me to be able to congratulate you on your victory.

I promise you, I will do the same.

But, Maya, please remember one thing.

Not matter what happens.

You are a not failure.

May the best man win.


Revolution / May the Best Man Win[I/II vs Maya SCCS]
« on: February 07, 2013, 04:03:39 AM »
Alex Brooks is lying on his couch with his feet on the arms. The coffee table in front of him is covered with empty pizza boxes, some magazines and assorted, well, crap. He is using his remote to channel surfing, barely leaving enough time for the image of the channel to come on the tube before skipping to the next channel. He is worn out from his recent hectic travel schedule and it’s not all that long before he is due to fly to Iowa to do some work for KA-POW! He is not enjoying working in Iowa. He has done something that isn’t natural to him, something which feels like a lie.

He has struck up a good friendship with Nina Carter. That’s one good thing at least.

His lethargy is shaken by a knock on his door. Must be Jerry, he thought. He swings his feet off the end of the couch onto the floor and sits up. He must be taking too long for his visitor as they knock again, much faster, much louder – sounding much more impatient. He ambles over to the door, stepping over some clutter along the way. Alex sticks his eye to the peephole.

He steps back.

He looks again.

He steps away from the door and holds his hand over his mouth. He then takes a moment to survey his living conditions.

He looks back through the peephole just as his visitor knocks louder than before.

Alex steps away and spins in a circle like a confused puppy dog, which has just discovered its tail. He steps forward and unlocks the security latch on his door. He reaches for the knob and starts turning, opening the door as slow as he possibly can.


Brooks: Hi Maya.

He sits in front of the SHOOT Project banner. The helmet logo stands tall behind his head. Alex Brooks is sitting on a wooden stool, wearing the new light blue, dark blue and silver “Little Engine” t-shirt that is now part of the SHOOT Project merchandise line. He is also wearing a pair of jeans and white sneakers. He blonde locks flop on the top of head without any direction or style.

He waves.

Brooks: A little while ago, I was about to sit down and record little promo about the upcoming our Sin City Championship Series match, when I heard the tell-tale sound that Microsoft Outlook makes when new mail is delivered. It was your promo, so rather than setting up the camera and recording my own material. I sat down in front of my computer and watched yours.

I listened to every word you had to say.

I digested your patterns of thought about our match, and then I realised something. I was going to say many of the same things that you had just said. Maybe, I wouldn’t have used the same turn of phrase that you used. But the thoughts, the ideas were basically the same.

It left me in a strange position.

So I sat down and thought about my options. I could no-sell you, and act like I had never seen your stuff but that would be disrespectful.  So I decided I wasn’t going to do that, Maya.

It was a real dilemma for me.

Then I decided that I would just sit down in front of the SHOOT Project banner and let my thoughts roll off my tongue and see where they take me. You are an honourable person, so I knew you would understand. It makes me mildly ashamed that the first time you and were scheduled to face each other in the ring back before the two thousand and nine hiatus that I was too nervous to step in front of the camera and tell the world how proud I was to be facing you and Shinya in a tag team match.

When I first got my lucky break in the industry I saw some of the footage that TRES BIEN in the ring. I wished I could do the things that you and Shinya were doing in the ring. In fact, I still wish I could do some of things that you can do in the ring. But, I am still learning and one day I hope to be as talented as you. And I hope to keep the truthfulness and strength of character you present when I get to that stage.
There was something you said that really struck a chord with me though, Maya. It’s something I really feel I need to address and that’s the importance of the Sin City Championship.

Like you said, you see it as homage to the city that made SHOOT Project. I tend to agree.
And it makes me value the title even more. Without SHOOT Project, I wouldn’t be sitting here addressing you right now. And without Sin City we probably would be talking about the importance of SHOOT Project and its status as one of the top ten wrestling companies in the world.  That’s why during this Championship Series I will be treating it as a honour to seen as a possible representative of the city that made SHOOT Project; the company that allowed Alex Brooks to be a wrestler.  I want to be recognised as a deserving holder of this wonderful title. And I will do everything I can to achieve that goal.

He pauses for a moment.

Brooks: No, that’s not quite true. I will perform to the best of my ability of achieve the Sin City Championship. If my inner strength, my will, my courage, my heart. If that’s not enough to win the title, I will accept and I will get better, then maybe one day it will be enough. Maybe one day, I can see my name on the honour board somewhere underneath your own, Maya, and that would be something.

See, Maya – you and me. We can do something together that not many people can. We can get people moving on the back of our energy alone.  We don’t rely on intimidation. We don’t rely on the proliferation of violence to get people behind us. We go out in the ring and put everything we have into it, and let the result come what may. While, I don’t think I can even get close to your courage and resiliency, given the events you’ve overcome or the battles you have survived. I am still in awe of your performance in the Iron Fist title match on the recent Championship Edition of Revolution.

If you bring that level of determination, than I know I am trouble.


“Hi Mom” Alex Brooks says with a touch of bewilderment.

“Hello Alexander. You took your time answering the door.” His mother, Meryl Brooks, says as she pushes past him into his apartment.

Her face is instantly swallowed by dismay as she looks around and sees the state of disarray that his living arrangements are in.

“Alexander.” She confronts him with a voice that tells him that he is either in for a lecture or going to be sent to his room. “If I knew this was how you were going to live then I would have been in Las Vegas much sooner. No child of mine will live in such squalor.”

“Mom…” Alex begins to speak but he is cut off by his mother sternness.

“Don’t Mom me, young man. This is just unacceptable. I told your sister I was only going to come and visit for a couple of days, but it is very clear that I need to be here for a while. I need to re-instil the values I taught you when you were growing up. It is clear that this hedonistic city, that God would never approve of is starting to corrupt you.”

Meryl Brooks tuts at her eldest son while shaking her head. “What do you have to say for yourself, Alexander?”

Alex Brooks is looking at the ground, unable to look his mother in the eye. “Nothing Mom.”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you when you aren’t looking at me.”

He looks up timidly. “Nothing Mom.”

“Well at least you’re still taking responsibility for you actions. Glad to see you remember something I taught you.”


Brooks: Maya.

When you and I compete in what I intend to make the match of the night. I want to make sure we get then fans of the Epicenter screaming loudly. I want to make sure we get their feet stomping. I want to make sure their hands are clapping. I want us to be remembered as a high octane, high impact classic. And most of all I want to make sure we do it clean. But I don’t think that will a problem for you, you believe in the value of the competition. You believe in your ability being what decides whether you have your hand raised in victory or you shake my hand and congratulate me.

When that bell rings, let’s give it our all. Whether it’s a Lunatic High or a success for the Little Engine, let’s make sure there is nothing left in either your tank or mine. And when it is all said and done, if you defeat me you will deserve to have made that Ode to Shinya. And if I am good enough to execute the Starburst and keep you down for the three count, let me promise you this, I will lift you from the mat and raise your hand with mine. Because no matter what the record books record as a result, I am one hundred per cent certain we will both be victorious.

We will have stolen the show.

May the best man win.


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