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.